


Against The World

by MrTYTrack



Series: MarkYong Asylum Fic (Part 1, 2 + Oneshots) [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Anxiety Disorder, Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Violence, Borderline Personality Disorder, Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Depression, Drug Use, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, Eating Disorders, Graphic Description, Graphic Description of Corpses, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Injury, M/M, Malnutrition, Mental Health Issues, Multiple Sclerosis, Murder, Neurological Disorders, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm, Suicide Attempt, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 76,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrTYTrack/pseuds/MrTYTrack
Summary: After three years of living out of the public eye and only relying on each other for survival, Mark and Taeyong are discovered living once again in a run-down, collapsing dilapidated building. With the latter's physical condition deteriorating significantly, they are faced with a harsh reality that they can no longer live such a way if they wish to live long lives together. Old memories begin to resurface and Mark is feeling overwhelmed, weighed down by a responsibility far too great for somebody of his age and—lack of—qualifications. With enemies at every turn, they begin to feel cornered. Living a 'normal' life seems almost impossible. But, at the end of the day, at least they all have each other.This is a sequel! Please read the first part of this story before beginning this one.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Lee Taeyong, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten & Liu Yang Yang, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun, Dong Si Cheng | WinWin/Nakamoto Yuta, Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Kim Jungwoo/Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas, Lee Taeyong & Original Male Character(s), Mark Lee/Lee Taeyong, Moon Taeil/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Wong Kun Hang | Hendery/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Series: MarkYong Asylum Fic (Part 1, 2 + Oneshots) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1975399
Comments: 33
Kudos: 66





	1. Castaway

**Author's Note:**

> **POTENTIALLY DISTRESSING SCENES**
> 
> _Trigger warnings in tags, which may change, and in that case, I will mention so on[Twitter](https://twitter.com/drgnyong). Warnings will not be given in individual chapters to avoid spoilers._
> 
> This isn't _just_ about the ship. There is a storyline.  
> Rated E for violence.  
> Certain things are exaggerated in this story. This is a work of fiction.  
>  **I do NOT intend to romanticize mental illnesses through this story. It is a bizarre plot, but my only intention is to entertain and educate.**  
> 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two bodies are discovered in a woodland expanse in Sampyeong-dong, bringing Taeil and Detective Kim's secret investigation to a much-feared standstill. However, strange sightings direct them towards a derelict farmhouse in Gwangmyeong-si.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, part two begins!

Somebody—long ago—once told Taeil that it was all over. Looking at the trail of blood that Taeyong left behind, he would have believed them. Even as he stared at his reflection in the thick crimson substance, he had a feeling, deep down, that it wasn't over. His job wasn't done yet. He'd search for Mark and Taeyong until he grew old if he had to. Even as everybody told him to move on, he knew he had a duty. An important duty which he would never abandon. He wasn't going to give up on his patient, not then, not ever. If anybody had visited Taeil's apartment and looked at the wall that he kept hidden behind a curtain, they'd think _he_ was crazy. Almost like a stalker.

But he was far from one. His apartment had become the base of operations for what was deemed a pointless search. He had Detective Kim's full support; they worked together. Even Seulgi hadn't heard from her brother in _years_. That day, whether it was fated or not, was the last time Taeyong had been seen alive. He staggered away from Taeil, a shot to his leg and his hands smothered in the blood of a police officer. He had taken another life and had sworn upon his departure to never do so again. He believed him. Taeil trusted that it was the truth; he wouldn't even _think_ about taking a life ever again. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he hoped and—dare he say—prayed that it was true. Taeyong could do it. He could overcome whatever drove him to pick up the knife on that day. He could live a peaceful life, he had the motivation to do so.

A lot had happened in three years. While Taeyong was presumed dead, it was well known that Mark was alive. He left unscathed, perhaps traumatized, but physically untouched. His record had become ridden by theft charges, but even when the whole of Seoul had known of his crimes, they couldn't catch him. He'd become as sly as a fox. People spoke of him as though he was a shadow in the night, a mysterious, unseen entity. He was doing what he had to do, though. It wasn't for the sake of doing it. It was never really anything major that he stole, just a few necessities for living. People weren't any more threatened by him than they were every other destitute thief. If anything, they'd simply spit out some words about how nobody should be surprised that he was living such a way. He received even more slander than the next outcast, insulting him and his ties to Taeyong who'd been made even more infamous since the officer lost his life by his hand. He was further incriminated, pushed aside, and was treated as though the only thing he'd ever done in his life was cause peril.

Taeil didn't know what he expected when Detective Kim had called him, alerting him that he had some information on the missing pair. He was on his break when he had received the call and immediately hurried out of his office and to his car, not even bothering to remove his long, white doctor's coat as he practically sped to the police station. He had been forewarned that it wasn't particularly _good_ news, but after the drought of sightings or reports that Mark had been seen, he was ready for any information that he could get. He found it ironic. He shouldn't have found comfort in having his morning coffee, watching the news, and discovering that Mark had struck again. He was breaking the law, rather insignificantly, but it was still _wrong_. He didn't know if all of their efforts were going to be in vain, but he'd prefer to at least be aware of whatever end they would meet rather than living to ignorantly proclaim they were very much alive. Ignorance _may_ be bliss, but knowledge is also power.

Parking his car in the station car park, Taeil unfastened his seatbelt and got out of the car faster than he had ever moved in probably around five years. Half-running to the door, he remembered last minute that his car was indeed still unlocked and locked it before slipping his keys into one of his pockets. Some officers waved as he walked in, all too used to seeing Taeil running around rather sporadically in the more recent years. He slowed down upon reaching the inner building, instead dodging people until he reached the corridor. Detective Kim was stood outside of his office, his expression uneasy. The psychiatrist was plunged into an immediate panic when the elder didn't even smile. They'd grown rather close over the three years they'd been working together. They searched for Mark and Taeyong together, even when most people had lost interest in the case. It was no longer publicized, even when they _did_ find a piece of once lost evidence about their location. 

"What happened?"

"Come inside," said Detective Kim, "it's probably better if we sit down."

Taeil raised an eyebrow. "You're scaring me—"

"Just, come on. Let's get this over and done with."

The younger stepped inside of the room anxiously. He'd been long anticipating the day that they'd have some kind of information which would change the course of their search, but was dreading what was to come. Bad news was better than none at all. He sat down, fixing his coat as the detective sat across the desk from him and sighed as he sat down.

"How has your day been?"

"Don't try to make this any easier, just tell me."

Detective Kim cleared his throat, sliding a written report across the table to Taeil. The psychiatrist looked up as his body filled with tension. "Two corpses have been discovered in Sampyeong-dong. They were discovered quite far from the woodland trail and, according to the crime scene investigators who are at the scene, one of them have a gunshot wound on his right leg, but as the bodies are quite... far out, the wildlife have—."

"Just, stop." Taeil's entire body froze. He didn't even want to _look_ at the report. He didn't believe it. He didn't _want_ to believe it at all. It felt as though everything he'd ever worked for had collapsed all around him. He gulped, shaking off the feeling, and peeked down at the report in front of him.

"The wound is the only identification which can be used, it might not be them! Plus, Mark was last seen in Gwangmyeong-si, which is miles away from Sampyeong-dong."

"It's been several months since he's been seen anywhere, they could have gotten _anywhere_ by now."

"Exactly, the chance of them being in Sampyeong-dong is extremely slim. Why would they go there?" said Detective Kim, "Also, would it be possible for them to get there, on foot, with Taeyong? There's a chance he can't even walk anymore—"

"MS doesn't progress that quickly, even with his wounded leg, he won't be completely immobilized yet."

The detective sighed. "Well, I don't think it's them. The bodies have been taken to a lab and they'll be tested against samples of DNA that they've been provided. We should get the results in a few weeks."

"Great. They can completely disappear from the face of the earth in that amount of time. Can't they prioritize this?"

"There's no family to rush the process, but I've requested the results as soon as they get them. As the bodies weren't found in Seoul, we don't have jurisdiction."

Taeil looked down at the ground. Burying his face in his hands, he deeply exhaled. Detective Kim took the report back and placed it in his drawer.

"Listen, I know you've been disheartened by this, but don't give up yet. This world is _full_ of people, the chance that it is them is slim. I've also been forwarded a report that there's an old derelict farmhouse in Gwangmyeong-si that's had some fairly suspicious activity these days. Locals reported controlled fires on a regular basis, and one couple was walking in the forest when they heard talking from inside. It was visited by some officers, but they returned saying it was empty, but there _were_ belongings in there. Since Mark was seen in Gwangmyeong-si, that may be where they are or were staying."

"They will probably have moved on by now," the psychiatrist replied.

"Really? Well, what if I told you that it's been requested that we have a look?"

The younger lifted his head. Perhaps there was a glint of hope after all. "What are you waiting for? Let's go—"

"You're due to start working again in fifteen minutes."

He checked his watch and scowled. He was right. Taeil checked his phone, looking at his schedule for the day, and groaned.

"I'm seeing a patient for a ninety-minute session, then I have paperwork to do. I'll be finished at around five, but if I push this paperwork, or save some for later, I can be finished by four and we can go then. Sound good?"

"You've suddenly gained spirit," Detective Kim chuckled, "that's the Taeil I know."

"Any objections, or can I leave?"

"That's alright for me, I can leave whenever I like. It's my job, after all."

The younger stood up. "I'll call you before I leave."

"I'll come and collect you, it'll be easier in one car. I can take you back to Daehak afterward."

"Alright, then four. Not even a second later."

"Okay, now get to work, you have people counting on you," the detective replied.

Taeil grinned, walking out of the door. He really did. When the university found out about him continuing to get involved in the patients from Namhyeon's lives, he was sure that was the end for his career that he hadn't even _started._ But instead, they told him that what he was doing showed that he really was perfect for the field. He didn't give up, even when threatened with punishment—which, as they added, would have been worse if he was actually licensed at the time—and persevered even when everybody told him it was a complete waste of his abilities. But even so, there he was, licensed in the field and even regarded as one of the best, yet youngest, psychiatrists in Daehak Psychiatric Institution after a mere three years of working there.

While he was no longer caring for the same patients, he still enjoyed his job. He could also monitor Johnny and Yuta's care as he was respected for the work he'd done with them in the past. Although, one factor he didn't quite have much of a voice in was when they were both moved in ward three rather than two which they were originally admitted to. Ward three, while not the _highest_ security ward, was where the patients with violent tendencies were housed. Mere weeks after Taeil got his job, Yuta had gotten into a fight with somebody—who he later learned was actually causing trouble for Johnny and him—and had 'accidentally' knocked them unconscious. They were both moved to prevent further conflict, and Yuta lost much of his freedom.

After driving back to Daehak, Taeil headed inside, fixing his badge as he walked into the main building to sign in. During his time working there, he had worked with a number of patients, but only recently had he finally moved onto ward four, a grim location frequently regarded as the 'red floor', due to it, at one point, quite literally having a red floor as a fight broke out between two previously convicted patients. They both recovered, thanks to the security staff's intervention before anybody was seriously injured, and the patients on that floor were further restricted, even if they barely interacted anyway. Taeil's patient wasn't _too_ tough. He was only on ward four because he did, however, react badly to other patients. He was only really on that ward to give him the separation he required.

The psychiatrist made his way to his office on the same floor as ward three. He needed to get his things to take up to the floor above, as, naturally, the patients on ward four couldn't be moved between floors and instead, the sessions occurred in their rooms. He only needed a few things for the session, as he needed to make note of any progressions or changes in the patient's behavior and list down some further information that he took on a regular basis. Despite ninety minutes sounding like an excessively long time, once they got into conversation, which usually progressed to something about the patient's family life, it passed quickly. 

While the patient _did_ comment on how Taeil seemed rather distracted during the session, the psychiatrist managed to turn around how the conversation strayed over to him, as he said, meeting an old friend in a few hours, to questioning whether the patient had anybody he wanted to see. He didn't like to become the topic of the conversation. To Taeil, his relationships with his patients were solely professional. While they obviously weren't in the past, he knew he had to keep them so while working in such a setting. He didn't need his own life getting in the way, though sometimes small anecdotes brought him closer to the patient and allowed him to get through to them.

Once the session ended, Taeil couldn't return to his office any quicker. He was _supposed_ to be writing a closing report, but it was as though his mind was clouded by a thick, impenetrable fog. His thoughts were elsewhere, rather than being where they should have been. He should have had his mind in place, under his control and completely focused on the task on hand, but instead, it wasn't. He was too busy formulating scenarios of how the later events would occur. He wasn't even certain that Taeyong and Mark _would_ be there. Actually, it was more likely that they weren't, and that some random middle-aged alcoholic was living in that farmhouse, and that they'd probably find him already at death's door and would spend the rest of the evening filling out even _more_ paperwork, as though Taeil didn't already have enough treatment plans to write and official documents to complete.

When he looked at the clock, it wasn't even three. He had seventy minutes to try and defeat his brain fog and be productive; it didn't look like that was happening. He gave in to his mind and took out his phone, immediately searching through his long list of contacts to find Detective Kim's number. He pressed call without hesitation. Pushing back on his chair to give himself some space. When the elder picked up, he sighed in relief.

"I can go now," said Taeil, "there's no way I can concentrate while they could be out there."

_"I had a feeling this would happen. I'll make my way over there now, I shouldn't be too long."_

"I'll wait outside."

Ending the call, the psychiatrist stood up. Collecting his laptop and the paperwork he would need to complete, Taeil headed to the door. After struggling to lock the door, he turned for a moment, looking into ward three's social area. He could see Johnny sat alone, just watching the world go by as everybody else preoccupied themselves in some way. Yuta must have been locked away. Pushing back the urge to call out for his boyfriend—who, much to his disappointment, he'd hardly had any time with since his admission—he headed away from the bars separating the offices from the social area and walked down the stairs. He would just need to leave his things in his car which, after signing out, he did quickly and returned to the front of the building to wait.

He was feeling nervous, and he didn't exactly know why. He didn't know what to expect, but if they _were_ there, he knew they'd hardly be any different since the day he'd last saw them. He would be relieved to see them, but he didn't know what would happen if they were found. Mark could easily serve jail time for his counts of theft and Taeyong would probably be admitted to Daehak, which, really, wasn't _that_ bad. But it would mean that the couple would definitely be separated. He didn't want that for anybody, never mind them specifically. He knew they were all each other had, it would especially tear Taeyong apart to be separated from Mark.

Detective Kim's familiar silver car soon made its way into the car park, and Taeil had never been so happy to see a car in his life. He just wanted to be at the location as soon as possible. When the car came to a stop, the psychiatrist got into the passenger seat and didn't waste any time. "Come on, we haven't got all day."

"I may be a detective, but I can't just speed," the elder replied as he drove out of the car park.

Taeil sighed, but he _knew_ he was right. He had a tendency of being far more logical than him.

"But, you do remember that they might not be there, right?" he asked, "I don't want you to get your hopes up and then be let down."

"You sounded sure they were, before."

"Because I have evidence to believe they are. But even the most crystal clear evidence can mislead you sometimes."

"Well, then we look harder, right? Isn't that what you detectives do?"

"I like your enthusiasm. It's not all that we do, but it is a large chunk of the job."

The younger nodded. "How long is this drive?"

"About thirty minutes."

"It's a good job that I came now, it could be dark by the time we get there."

"That's a bit of an exaggeration," said Detective Kim.

"It won't be too far, it's dark when I usually get home. I normally stay until around seven to complete paperwork."

"We have plenty of time, it's only just turned three. We'll have two and a half hours of sunlight, roughly, and afterwards, I have headlights if necessary. But I have the address, we can drive straight there."

Taeil was rather impatient during the drive. He just wanted to have an answer as to if he should be worried about those test results for the next few weeks of his life, waiting to know if Taeyong and Mark really were dead. He didn't think they were. He had a feeling that those bodies weren't them, and, as tragic and horrible as it was, he was glad it wasn't them. Once the city and any major roads were far out of view, their only sights for what seemed like miles on end were trees and every now and again, a small house. Soon, there was nothing but trees, and Detective Kim turned down a road which made the younger turn to him in concern.

"Is this the right way?" he questioned.

The road was extremely narrow and seemed to continue for far beyond their view. If Taeil hadn't known the detective for years, he'd have thought he was about to be murdered and left to rot in a ditch. Or, more likely, he thought they'd have to come to an abrupt stop, noticing a body peeking through the long, overgrown grass.

"It looks about right."

"How can you tell? It's just a bunch of trees."

"It is an abandoned farmhouse, of course it's surrounded by trees and nothing else. How else do you think they'd have gotten away with it?"

The psychiatrist hummed. "You're right. They're sneaky."

"We should probably walk the rest of the way, it shouldn't be too far. They might be alarmed if they hear or see the car approaching."

"Walk? Out there?"

"You want to see them, don't you?"

"They might not even be there!"

"Come on, it's the middle of the day. What could happen?"

Taeil shook his head. "You're reckless, sometimes."

"I have to be, that's my job."

Detective Kim got out of the car, leaving the younger no other option. He sighed, pushing the door open gently. He took off his white coat—not wanting it to get covered in filth as he did have work in the morning—and placed it on the seat. While temporarily relieved that he got to stretch his legs, he jumped as a bird flew through the leaves.

"How did you 'work' in an abandoned asylum for years?" he joked.

"It's been a while, I'm a little rusty when it comes to this stuff."

The elder laughed. "Let's go. We won't just teleport there."

Taeil didn't know why the forest crept him out so much. Maybe it was just the memories associated with them, or that he really was too used to being in an office all day that he'd lost his edge. He didn't know why the memory of that day stuck in his mind like a thorn, but it wouldn't leave him alone no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps, rather logically, it was because it was his first time attending a murder scene seconds after the act was committed. The first perpetrator just so happened to be Taeyong, the one who he was _certain_ could change. He didn't like the look in his eyes as he stepped away, throwing the knife onto the gravel. There really was no guilt to be seen. The nonchalance in his face gave the psychiatrist the chills. He was just relieved that the patient didn't erupt into a fit of laughter, just like one of the others _definitely_ would have if it were him, instead.

Walking across the dirt path, Taeil scanned his surroundings at every slight rustling in the bushes. Detective Kim didn't seem to react. He gathered it was the difference in profession. After all, the elder had probably seen far worse things. They could hear crows in the trees, almost stalking them. Taeil was sure that one, in particular, was following them, and he'd watched enough movies in his life to know that was not a good sign. He began to worry. Even if they didn't find who they were looking for, they very well may have just entered a serial killer's playground, and could easily be their next victims. He heard the detective move suddenly and looked up, right before he was pulled aside.

"Got you," Detective Kim muttered, "look who we have here."

Taeil looked around the tree that they were hiding behind to see Mark. He was more than relieved that he was alive, but looking at the shovel in the younger's hands, he wasn't sure what to expect as the tool was forced into the dirt. He made eye contact with the detective who signaled for him to follow. The psychiatrist couldn't help but notice that Mark looked taller. It wasn't surprising, but he still didn't really expect that. He was twenty, after all. He wasn't the teenager who stubbornly returned to the asylum because he was fascinated with one of the patients anymore. He was an adult. While he doubted he'd have matured in any way—simply because of the absence of a normal lifestyle—he was almost certain that he'd be more protective of Taeyong, especially with the patient's illness.

Taeil knew that they'd have been set back by the events. Even if they were to take both of them into their care, either officially or otherwise, he knew that the patient would probably need to be worked with once again. Three years is a long time to spend away from much interaction. Even if he had Mark. They walked closer, as quietly as they could, and Detective Kim looked more closely at what he was doing. They could hardly see, but one thing was for sure, there wasn't a body about to be buried. Accidentally standing on a twig, Taeil brought Mark's attention to them. The detective scowled at the psychiatrist, who muttered an apology. The younger simply looked at them in surprise, his hand gripping onto the shovel's handle. Taeil practically stared Mark down.

"Mark Lee," said the detective, reaching backward, "place the shovel down and step away."

The psychiatrist's eyes widened. He hadn't even noticed that he'd brought a gun. "What are you doing? He's not a hazard—"

"Just leave this to me," the elder replied.

Mark complied, rather nervously stepping away from the shovel as he left it on the ground. He held his arms up, expecting to be shot at if he made the slightest wrong move. When he was far enough away, Detective Kim made his way over to the hole that he'd been digging in the ground. Looking in for a moment, he was surprised to see a box in the ground and his muscles immediately relaxed.

"What is that?"

"A grave—"

"A grave?" Taeil asked before the detective could even speak, "For who?"

"A kitten," he replied, immediately making the other two look at him in confusion, "it was in a box at the side of the road, we were trying to raise it, but it didn't work."

"We?" asked Detective Kim, "Taeyong is still alive?"

The younger furrowed his eyebrows. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"He was shot."

"Well, he took a while to heal, but he's fine. We had some help from some people."

"Well, that's all good, but you—"

"What are you doing here?"

The voice immediately made Taeil turn towards the door of the building. Taeyong, looking incredibly worn-out and almost ghostly, was stood barely standing with the aid of two wooden sticks acting as something to make his walking a little bit easier, sort of like makeshift walking sticks or crutches. The patient was feeble, it didn't take an expert to notice how he clung onto the sticks for dear life. Upon seeing him, Mark immediately rushed over from where he was stood.

"Why did you come down? I thought you were resting."

The elder nodded, lifting one of the sticks off of the ground as he instead had an arm wrapped around him. "Well, I heard voices. I didn't want to risk anything."

The detective turned to Taeil, who was simply gawking. He never would have expected, of all things, that Taeyong's state would deteriorate so quickly. He guessed that his lifestyle in addition to the injury he sustained didn't exactly help. Mark helped his boyfriend sit down as the latter tried to ignore the looks of pity that were being sent his way. Detective Kim was surprised that he was even alive with such a frail body.

"So? What do you want?" asked Mark, his tone coming across as rather bitter.

"We wanted to know that you were alive," the detective replied.

"Well, you know now. Now go back, and I don't want to see you here ever again."

"Mark... don't be like that," said Taeil, "we can help—"

"We don't need help," he spat, "especially not from one of _those._ "

Detective Kim frowned, seeing the gaze of hatred that was directed at him. He completely understood. After all, it was an officer that shot Taeyong. 

"Taeil," said the detective, "a moment, please."

The younger stepped aside, disheartened that they were met with such a response. Detective Kim pulled him further away and faced away so Mark couldn't figure out what he was saying.

"I know you won't like this," he began, "but we're going to have to report them."

"No! Not happening!"

"We'll both be punished if we don't. And if that doesn't bother you, then it should be obvious to you that _that_ is not right. Sure, Taeyong's condition can't kill him, but do you know what can? Hypothermia, starvation, infection, disease, and there's so many more, and you know it. Both of them. They'll die out here."

Taeil hesitated. The last thing he wanted was for them to die after he only just got the reassurance that they were alive, but he knew that it would, emotionally, be the worst thing they could ever do to them. For one, they'd be torn apart, but also rather simply, it would somewhat comparable—at least in Taeyong's case—to taking a wild animal out of its natural, familiar environment and locking it in an enclosed space.

"If you think you can still deal with them, just take a look at everything here. One of them is one thing, but now, you have two. Either Mark is just protective, or he's just downright feral, which, really, it wouldn't surprise me."

"I get it, I understand what you're saying. But this goes far beyond their behavior. How can we be sure they'll receive the right care?"

"It's a doctor's job to deal with that correctly. No more shenanigans, the world has changed."

"Give me one day," said the younger, "please, just one day, and then I'll let you report them."

The detective sighed. "What do you expect to achieve in a day?"

"You just wait and see."

Taeil walked back over to the pair, making Mark tense with just how close he was getting.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, "Should I bring you something actually _good_ to eat?"

As a wise soul—somewhere on the vast earth—probably said at some point in time, food was the gateway to the heart of any sentient being.

"How can I trust that you won't try something sneaky?"

"I'm no different from the person who was caring for Taeyong. Just because time has passed, it doesn't mean _everybody_ changes."

Mark still looked uncertain. Taeil didn't exactly blame him, he'd likely be the same if he was in the younger's position.

"Just wait here, I'll be back soon. If you leave, you'll miss out on this!"

Detective Kim scowled. Taeil didn't get his head bitten off when he tried to communicate with them as he did.

"Let's go, I'll pay," said Taeil as he walked past the elder.

"Damn right you will, I don't get paid enough to do things like this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any thoughts, don't hesitate to comment :)


	2. Reignited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark and Taeyong have been found, but they are less than willing to comply when help comes their way. Taeil is faced with sudden news about Johnny's treatment, as well as a troubled call from somebody from the past.

Taeil hadn't thought that they'd been _that_ long, but when they returned with food to see that Mark and Taeyong were no longer outside and instead moved inside where they found them cuddled up on the ground, it was obvious enough that it took a little bit longer than they had felt it had. The psychiatrist smiled gently. They seemed to be even closer to each other, even if Mark had seemed to develop a rather malicious deposition towards people. The younger opened his eyes first, removing his arms from around Taeyong and sat up. The latter hardly realized that Mark had moved, and had to be gently shaken awake from his rest. Detective Kim sat farther away from them than Taeil, simply because he gathered they didn't particularly like his presence and wanted to see what the psychiatrist had planned.

Taeyong sat upright, pushing himself over to lean on the crumbling wall. Mark placed his hand on the elder's leg as he let out a sigh. Taeil could only watch, concerned for them both. He pushed the bag of food over to them. The younger seemed to take the lead in much of the things they did. Handing the patient something to eat, the latter immediately began to wolf down his food, cautiously looking over to their onlookers as though they'd try to take it off him at any moment. He looked starved, and Mark certainly didn't look much better. The younger observed Taeyong rather than eating, reaching out to reassuringly caress the patient's back. They didn't even seem to need to communicate with words. The elder seemed to calm simply by being reminded of the others' presence.

It was then that Taeil remembered about Taeyong's partial blindness. While Mark was sat on his left—the side effected—the elder seemed to let his guard down after being reassured. He wasn't looking around as sporadically, nor was he rushing to eat anymore. The psychiatrist found it interesting, and it would certainly prove useful knowledge to have. Noticing that he had calmed down, Mark began to eat. The elder jumped at the abrupt sound of the plastic lid being taken off and his head immediately jerked to look in that direction.

"Has there been any significant changes?" asked Taeil, "Or, is your condition still the same?"

Taeyong looked over to the elder before his eyes soon averted to the ground in front of him. "My walking is a little bit worse, but it's mostly because my legs feel really weak."

The psychiatrist nodded, he'd gathered that much.

"I can't see out of that eye at all, but that's the only important change."

"That's got to be pretty detrimental to your survival skills," Detective Kim noted.

Taeil turned to him and sighed. He was trying to prove his point.

"He's surviving fine, we both are," said Mark.

"It sounds like you're the one putting him at risk."

Taeyong almost immediately grabbed onto Mark, as though he was preventing him from reacting. The younger glared at the detective. Never in a million years would be purposefully put the patient at risk of harm.

" _Detective_ ," Taeil said sternly, "let me do the talking."

"I think I might head back to the car. Don't be too long."

"Good," Mark spat.

Taeil sighed. "Alright."

Seeing the detective leave, every party in the room seemed to relax. The youngest let out a sigh, massaging his temples in frustration. It was probably better than it was just the three of them. At least they all knew each other properly.

"Why did you bring him?" asked Mark, "I can understand _you_ being concerned, but he could make all of this that we've built collapse in an instant."

"We didn't know if you were here for definite. But, Mark, can we talk?"

The younger sighed, looking at Taeyong. The latter was still eating, hardly paying any attention to those around him. Mark tapped him gently, prompting the elder to turn so he could see him with his one functional eye. "I'm just going to talk with Taeil, I'll be back."

Looking concerned, Taeyong shook his head, accompanied by a deep frown. His hands gripped onto Mark's arm, refusing to let go as he set his food aside.

"You _know_ Taeil. We can trust him. We'll just go over there."

He didn't seem convinced. The younger planted a kiss on his cheek, somewhat reassuringly, and the patient's grip loosened. From beside them, Taeil observed. He didn't know what he'd have to do with them, but if he knew exactly what was going on during those last three years, he'd certainly have the upper hand if they needed to be moved into a clinical setting.

Mark stood up, moving over to the stone staircase at the east of the building. The psychiatrist followed after him, looking back to see Taeyong was watching quietly from the corner. "Has it been tough?"

"Of course it has," the youngest replied, "I've been running around like a headless chicken, stealing things to survive and monitoring our health situations for three years."

"Taeyong seems... quieter."

Mark pulled him further away, turning away from the patient. "Because his memories have been coming back."

"They have?"

"Since _that_ day. Beforehand, but he hardly deserves to be treated as though he's some senseless killer when that officer was spitting out insults inappropriately."

"What kind of memories?"

"Just the things he'd do on a day-to-day basis," Mark sighed, "beatings, verbal abuse, and everything else that asshole put him through."

Taeil frowned. He clenched his eyes shut and let out an airy breath. He knew it would happen at some point, but he'd hoped he'd have been there to at least work with Taeyong, to help him overcome that trauma and turn his hatred into something productive. His gaze shifted over to the patient, his eyebrows tilted inward as he glanced over with a soft expression.

"How is he handling them?"

The younger sneered. "How do you think? We can't go a week without him waking up from a nightmare, screaming at the top of his lungs, and then taking an hour to calm down. It's horrible, and I can't help him."

"But I can," Taeil replied, "I can help him."

"But can you, really?"

"I can try. Would you be willing to convince him to accept help? We'd have to admit him to a—"

"Not happening." Mark crossed his arms defensively. "I can't believe _you,_ of all people, would want him to go back to one of those corrupt, cruel places."

The psychiatrist let out a sigh. "The world has changed now. Plus, I _work_ in a facility that could take him."

"I don't care if you've got a job," he hissed, "I'm not letting you take him against his will."

Perhaps Detective Kim was right. Not only would it prove difficult to convince Taeyong to get the help he needed, but also, Mark would probably put up a fight when faced with the chance of being separated from the patient. They had certainly become closer as the years passed. Taeil recognized such behavior, as it was exactly how he and Johnny had been in the past—though less confrontational. Rather, he had scowled at his partner's psychiatrist from down the hallway, muttering words nobody would ever expect to hear coming from such a well-behaved student. He didn't have it in him to face people head-on, especially not back then.

"Fine," he gave in, "I can work with him in a normal setting. Give me time to make some arrangements, but _don't_ leave here, no matter what. I'll come back tomorrow, count on it."

"Without the detective?"

He nodded. "Without him."

Mark's expression hardly changed. He looked down at the ground, kicking some rubble from the wall with his beaten and worn-down shoes.

"Good," he mumbled.

"Well, until tomorrow," he began, "don't get into trouble."

"Alright."

Taeil made his way back over to Taeyong. The patient looked at him curiously, though he sub-consciously shuffled away. The sadness in his eyes made his heart ache. The elder smiled. He didn't particularly have a reason to fuss over him but after so long of worrying, he didn't want to just leave without acknowledging him.

"I'll get you some food tomorrow, okay? Then we can talk. Don't worry too much, I won't persist if it's difficult for you to talk about."

The younger nodded gently. He seemed to hesitate, uncertain of whether he should trust Taeil or not. He didn't see why he shouldn't trust him, but Mark seemed uneasy, and it was making him wonder if the psychiatrist had done something that he just didn't know about. The elder stood up, sighing in relief that Taeyong didn't seem too cautious of him. He didn't want to have to rebuild the mutual respect that they'd had in the past, as it was difficult enough the first time around. A small grin broke through his expression recalling when they'd first met. He was proud of what they'd managed to achieve and was hopeful they'd get even further.

"Get some rest. I'll come here as soon as I can, but it may be difficult. I have a few sessions with patients tomorrow."

Mark hummed in understanding, returning to Taeyong's side. He didn't quite know if he was happy that they were acquainted with Taeil once again or not, but he hoped that it wouldn't backfire. After all, if the general public found out that they'd been found, they'd both likely be pushed to receive punishment—while he'd probably get a rather insignificant one, the patient _had_ taken a second life—and they'd be separated from each other. 

Taeil headed to the stairs, taking one look back at the pair before he made his way down the stone staircase. Once he stood outside looking up at the farmhouse's exterior, the vines climbing along the crumbling wall and the boarded windows, he stood in a slump. He'd have to somehow negotiate with Detective Kim about waiting just a little while longer until he could eventually come to an agreement with Mark and Taeyong. He knew he'd struggle, especially with the younger's distrust. The confrontation with the police must have gotten to him.

When Taeil approached the car, he was met by the detective smoking a cigarette, leaning on his door. It was a habit that he'd picked up more recently, much to the psychiatrist's distaste. He found it incredibly repulsive and just overall rather unhygienic, but it wasn't as though he had much say in the matter, he had _tried_ to suggest other methods of dealing with his stress. "That was rather unprofessional of you, for once."

Detective Kim nodded, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "It was. I'll leave the talking to you from now on, you're the talker, I'll deal with the actions."

"Also, a gun? Are you _trying_ to cause trouble?"

"Chief's orders. He knows we're here, it's not as though I can abandon procedure just for this. That's why we need to admit that they are here," he said.

"No, not happening. Give me time, I'll convince them to hand themselves over willingly."

"You do realize that if I lie, we'll both get into deep dirt over this? Not to mention they'll probably send somebody else to check."

Taeil sighed, pressing his lips into a line. "A week, please? Just one week."

"You're going to be the death of me," Detective Kim complained, "I've _just_ been promoted, and if this doesn't work, I'll be demoted. One week. I'll tell him there was a sign of somebody living there, but we'll go back. Can you get them out of there?"

"I'll figure something out. I may have an idea."

"I hope you know what you're doing," the detective sighed, "we can't afford to mess up, not now, not ever."

* * *

Taeil walked into work more exhausted than usual. That being said, he still maintained his usual bright, joyous persona as he greeted his coworkers, following the path toward his office. He bowed to his seniors, smiled, and greeted any unfamiliar people on the site. Surprisingly, for such a closed-off facility—featuring everything that they would need all in one place, separated between five high-grade buildings which had their fair amount of improvements over the years—they had visitors often. Most of the time, they were officials from the government, ensuring the standards of both care and the actual building was at its highest it could be. On his way over to his office, he was met by Doctor Cho, Johnny's psychiatrist, walking towards him.

"Doctor Moon, do you have a moment?" he asked.

Taeil looked at his watch. It was a rather pointless gesture, as he knew he'd arrived early like he always did. "I do."

"Could we talk somewhere private? It's about Johnny."

"Yes, of course," he replied, beginning to worry.

"It's nothing bad," said Doctor Cho as the other psychiatrist unlocked his office door, "it's rather good, actually."

They both stepped inside. Taeil made his way over to his desk, placing down his files. He turned back to his boyfriend's psychiatrist and waited for him to speak.

"I think it's about time we started discussing Johnny's release."

Taeil furrowed his brows in surprise. "Right, that's... sudden."

"There isn't much less we can do with him in here, he deserves to live a normal life. He's been great with his medication—he hasn't had much of an issue with refusing to take it in a long while."

"But I'm concerned that's more down to the routine, rather than his own understanding. He _has_ to take it here, he's aware of that. I can't be with him all day."

"I understand your concerns, but I have thought this though," said Doctor Cho.

"Of course!" Taeil exclaimed, "I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

The other chuckled, "it's alright."

"But, have you proposed the idea to him yet?"

"I wanted your opinion first, I was going to talk to him in our session today. I think he'll approve, he's been talking about wanting to spend more time with you."

The younger psychiatrist let out an awkward laugh, taken-aback. Johnny had no restraint in the _slightest_ when it came to talking about him, which sometimes resulted in embarrassing and rather problematic conversations on the elder's behalf, but Doctor Cho seemed to be used to it.

"It won't be a problem, will it?" he asked, "If he is released, I assume he'll be moving in with you, as he doesn't have contact with his father?"

"He will," Taeil nodded, "it's not a problem, I'll just have to make some adjustments and put a system in place so he'll continue to take his medication once he's allowed to leave."

"Well, once I fill out the necessary paperwork, I'll speak to you again. It'll likely be two or three weeks until he can leave. Now, I'll let you begin your work."

"Thank you," the younger said abruptly, "for understanding our situation."

Doctor Cho smiled. "It's our job to understand."

Taeil watched as he left, sighing in relief once he had disappeared beyond the closing door. At least something was going right without stressing him out. He opened up his laptop and began to work on the things he had left the night before, finally managing to complete his report without being too distracted or being overrun by a blockage of thoughts. He had a short while until his first session. It would be with his youngest patient—an orphaned young man of only nineteen, one of the youngest patients on the site as a whole—on ward two. He hadn't been in the ward for too long but had been admitted to the institution against his will. He'd grown used to it, but it wasn't as though he was enjoying his stay. Taeil wanted to get him released as quickly as possible, only if he wouldn't have to meet him fresh from the hospital as he had three months earlier.

The psychiatrist hadn't realized what time it was, too carried away in writing his report. There was a knock on the door and he jumped, his eyes darting over to the clock on the wall in surprise to see that the session was due to begin. He hurried over to the door, opened it, and smiled upon seeing his patient stood beside a nurse. He thanked the nurse—even if it _was_ their job—and let the patient inside. The young man looked around before he walked in, his hand wrapped around his other arm as he walked nervously. Taeil walked him over to a couch in the corner of the room, sitting on a chair across from him.

"Sorry about that, I lost track of time. Should we begin?"

The patient nodded, his hand slipping from his arm as he instead grasped his hands together. He watched as the psychiatrist tapped his fingers against his knee.

"Is something bothering you, Donghyuck?"

"No," he replied quietly.

"Are you sure? I can listen to any concerns you have—anything at all."

The nineteen-year-old sat slumped against the couch, his eyes fixed on his hands as he fidgeted with them. "The medication... I don't think it's working."

"Are there any particular reasons _why_ you feel it isn't working?"

"I've just been feeling worse than usual. But, it's not just that their effects are gone. It's worse than before."

"When did you realize this?" asked Taeil, "If they're not working, we can have your medication changed, but this may take a while, I can't just give you a new type of medication, we need to slowly reduce your dosage and let your body adjust before introducing anything new."

Donghyuk thought for a moment. "It's been a few days."

"Have you continued taking them like usual?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"That's good," said the psychiatrist, "I'll request a new medication. In our next session, we can look at all of the options and you can make a decision. Until you change over completely if you need to talk, request to come and see me. It doesn't matter what day, if you ask one of the nurses to contact me, I'll see when I have time."

The patient nodded. 

"So, have you managed to talk to anybody in your ward?"

"No," Donghyuk frowned, "I'm worried about them laughing at me."

"I'm sure they wouldn't. Most of the people I've talked to on ward two are nice."

"To you. It's different from us, people are always bothering each other."

That wasn't so hard for Taeil to believe. Johnny and Yuta had also had some trouble, after all. "Alright, I'll agree that some people aren't the best with others down there."

"See?"

"Well, I'm sure you could approach somebody who seems quiet, like you. If you're up to that task."

"I'll try, but I'm not the best talker."

* * *

Towards the end of the working day, Taeil had very little to do. He'd finally managed to get back into his flow, completing everything he needed to accomplish for the day. He was almost about to leave when he received a phone call he was most certainly not expecting. Picking up his phone, he was surprised to see Doyoung's contact was illuminating his screen. He _did_ have time, so he answered the call.

"Where is he?" asked Taeil almost immediately.

_"What?"_

"Well, usually when you call me during the week, it's because Jaehyun has gotten into trouble and needs to be collected from a police station."

_"It's not that, but it is Jaehyun."_

"What does he need?"

_"He was wondering if you had time to talk to him tonight. He won't tell me what about."_

"And why did _you_ call me? He has a phone."

_"Because I told him I would call you, he's asleep right now."_

"Has something happened?"

_"Well, he did go out drinking again—"_

"Fantastic," Taeil sighed, "I thought he'd be the most stable one but I was wrong, again."

_"Can you make it tonight?"_

"It'll be later, I have to meet Mark and—"

" _Mark? You've found him?"_

"No, it's another Mark."

_"Really?"_

"Really."

He didn't need any added pressure. Once he had an agreement with them, it would be fine. But in the run-up, he was going to have some trouble. He could already tell.

_"Well, I'll make sure he doesn't drink even the slightest drop of alcohol until then."_

"If he gets agitated, just let him. I can deal with drunkness, but not an assaulted partner."

_"Alright."_

He had a _long_ evening ahead of him. Ending the call, Taeil let out a sigh, massaging his temples. He returned his laptop to its bag and took what he needed—his session notes, primarily—before making his way over to the door. He turned off the light, stepped outside, and closed the door. Hearing it lock, he immediately hurried towards the staircase and rushed towards the exit. Eventually outside, he felt somewhat relieved. Even if he was probably going to be rushing around for several hours, somehow, he had to sneak Mark and Taeyong into his apartment—which may or may not have been a challenge within itself—and then eventually visit Jaehyun _before_ chaos ensued. The latter's alcoholic tendencies had returned. It was all he had known once before as a way to deal with his struggles. After his period of peace, everything seemed to flood back. 

Taeil hadn't initially been too concerned. He thought Jaehyun could get through it, but with Doyoung depending on him to help, they were faced with _further_ issues as they began to argue. The patient would always apologize, but it was all rather problematic. They'd argue, make up and argue _again_. In short: not quite a healthy relationship. But if they could get the alcohol consumption under control, the psychiatrist was sure that Jaehyun would run right back to Doyoung and they'd be happy. He wasn't a relationship advisor, but everybody depended on him for help, no matter what the issue was. But he was happy to help.

Hands gripping onto the steering wheel, the psychiatrist tried to keep his attention on the road rather than his thoughts, watching buildings pass by. He wasn't quite sure how to go about dealing with Detective Kim, but he did understand the urgency of closing the case. Whether or not people cared about it anymore—even Mark's parents seemed to lose interest—it was still an open case, even if it had been pushed aside. While he could handle sabotaging his _own_ career, he wouldn't drag somebody else down with him. That wasn't some guilt he was prepared to carry.

Struggling to remember the route, Taeil continued to drive, forcing his slight memories forward to figure out where exactly he was going. He regretted not asking for the address so he could have at least used a map. He prepared for a _long_ journey. He'd probably arrive significantly late due to his lacking remembrance skills, or at least give in and ask the detective for directions. The last thing he wanted was to get lost, consequently break a promise because of that reason and _then_ probably have to accept Detective Kim's immediate reporting of their location.

He didn't want to betray their trust, especially while they both seemed cautious of him, even after the years—or months, in Mark's case—that they had gotten along well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing... Haechan! I don't know if I'll be adding the other dreamies to the story (at least, not yet), but I don't see why I _couldn't._ The story is quite dark (and will get darker), tough. So I'm unsure yet. Most of Dream are over 20 now, so... maybe? What do you think?


	3. A Place Like Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeil once again confronts Mark and Taeyong about receiving help, and they manage to come to an agreement, but a change in Taeyong's mental health presents a new set of challenges. Jaehyun makes a decision to better his and Doyoung's relationship.

Taeil—eventually—accepted that he wasn't going to find the farmhouse in an acceptable timeframe for what he needed to get done and gave in, calling Detective Kim for the location. The latter was concerned, telling him to be wary and call if he needed any further help. The psychiatrist, being quite an independent person, insisted that he would be fine. He _did_ manage to navigate further on his own, driving straight up to the building and parking his car far closer than before. After getting out of his car, he stood looking up at the building, half expecting the couple to have made a run for it, but upon hearing the crunching of dried Autumn leaves and the twigs coating the woodland floor, he was relieved.

He turned to see Mark holding wood, likely for a fire, yet the younger seemed surprised to see him, despite their agreement. "You came back?"

"I did tell you I was coming back, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but I thought you'd leave me to deal with Taeyong," he replied, "because you have a job now."

"I may have a job, but that doesn't mean I'll leave an old patient behind."

The younger made his way toward the farmhouse, pushing open the creaky wooden door with his knee as he carried the firewood. He placed it on the ground inside, pushed against the crumbling wall, brushing himself down to loosen the rough bark that clung to his clothes. Taeil followed him, looking around the empty shell of the farmhouse as they approached the staircase. While the air was bitter, only a gentle breeze blew against the walls. A distant sound of squeaking metal from the old wind spinner on the roof ruined the nearby birds' song, creating an eerie reminder that the area was still polluted by manmade outcasts. There didn't seem to be much of a reason for the building to still be standing, but it was and had become a place of residence for human outcasts. It was ironic.

The psychiatrist was torn from his thoughts as they reached the top of the stairs, hearing sudden movement from his left. He turned, eyes wide, to look as Mark hurried over to the other side of the room. After moving on from the initial surprise, Taeil's eyes fixed on Taeyong, who was gently rocking back and forth, his legs tightly hugged to his chest. With his head buried into his arms, he had tears staining his face as he subconsciously dug his nails into his arm. He didn't seem to even notice when the youngest sat down beside him, immediately wrapping his arm around him. He began to quietly reassure him as the psychiatrist crouched in front of him, glancing as Taeyong's eyes were fixed onto the ground.

"Taeyong," said the elder, gently shaking his arm, "we're here, can you try to calm down for me?"

Mark nervously looked over to Taeil, his arm slipping from around the patient. He thought he should leave the eldest to deal with the situation, after all, he _was_ a professional.

"Look at me," the psychiatrist added softly.

Taeyong's gaze rose to him, carefully watching the elder. His grip loosened, taking his nails out of his skin, but that was as much as he could do at that moment. Taeil shuffled closer.

"Can you breathe for me? A nice, long breath in."

The younger looked wary as a hand was placed down on his arm, preventing him from inflicting any further damage to his red arm. Small spots of blood were scattered across his skin. Swallowing back a lump in his throat, he took in a shaky breath. He felt as though his heart was going to explode inside of his chest. His eyes settled on Taeil.

"Breath out," said the psychiatrist, "now continue breathing in and out, you don't need to hold it for very long."

Taeyong obliged. He didn't know what was happening, he had an abrupt onset of panic surging through his veins. With a white-knuckled grip on his arm, he tried to suppress the abnormal terror, but it seemed to make it worse. There was a feeling lingering in his stomach—one which he'd remembered from Jaehyun's lessons; butterflies, as he'd called it—which was making him want to run, but he _couldn't._ It seemed to subside, while only slightly, upon feeling Mark's warm touch. But when the younger moved away, he thought perhaps he'd done something wrong.

After what felt like an eternity, his body began to revert back to its usual state. Taeil had continued to give him instructions. All of which, Taeyong had initially thought would be useless, but as he progressively became more relaxed, he was more surprised than anything. It wasn't the first time he'd experienced such a response to _seemingly_ nothing, but every other time, it had taken him a long while of just waiting for it to be over. The first few times, he thought he was going to die. But he soon began to think that, in actuality, he was actually causing it himself. His mind always seemed to spring back to negativity. Memories always crept upon him when he was least expecting it and took him by the throat.

It had even occurred when in Mark's company. On a warm evening one summer, they sat outside relaxing when once again, they _somehow_ ended up kissing. But Taeyong didn't understand why he began to panic. They'd done it so many times before that it didn't make any sense to him in the slightest. In the back of his mind, he had thought about somebody. His old psychiatrist. But the younger ended up feeling horrible. He'd apologize what felt like, to the patient, thousands of times. After that, Mark had begun to be careful. He didn't even want to hug Taeyong abruptly for a while, instead stating beforehand so the elder wasn't surprised.

"Are you alright now?" asked Taeil, looking as the patient turned to the youngest and hugged his arm.

Taeyong gently nodded as Mark kissed him on his head.

"I don't think talking is a good idea right now," said the latter, "if he's only just relaxed."

"I agree. But I have something to propose."

The youngest raised an eyebrow. "This better not be what you brought up yesterday."

"No. It isn't, actually. But how would you like to stay somewhere warm and clean for a while?"

"Like where? I don't know if you've forgotten, but we're both wanted by the cops."

"My place. I have an apartment, obviously. This is a precaution. The police are looking for you, that's why we came here. They think you're here, we've held them off temporarily."

"You wouldn't hand us over, would you?" asked Taeyong quietly.

"I wouldn't," Taeil replied, "because that would be betraying your trust."

Mark hummed in contemplation. He wanted to trust the psychiatrist, he really did, but it was tough when he was so closely involved with a detective. "Fine. But, if you betray us, I'll personally get our revenge once I've dealt with my theft charges."

"Alright. That's as good as nothing."

"Only because you said the cops are looking for us, I'm not trusting you."

"I can earn your trust, that's fine. Now, I'll take you to my apartment and I can make you something to eat there, okay?"

* * *

Taeil sighed in relief when he closed the door behind them. They'd had to leave Taeyong's sticks behind—because walking around with two sticks which were blatantly from a tree would have been an eye-drawing factor—and even had to stop on the way as the patient felt like he was going to throw up during the journey. Mark was helping him walk, but they didn't want it to be too obvious, leading to some stumbles and him grabbing onto whatever he could. Going into the elevator was another thing completely. Taeyong clung to the handrail for dear life, even _with_ the youngest's aid, when they began to go up. It was incredibly obvious he'd grown up in the countryside and then was severely limited during his life.

The patient was hesitant when he walked into the apartment, looking around as Mark had his arm around him. He hadn't been so high from the ground in his entire life. Squirming out of the younger's grasp, Taeyong walked over to the window, carefully avoiding any obstructions. When he looked out, the two onlookers chuckled. 

"Are you both alright with me informing Seulgi that you're with me? She might want to see you, and since she works in the hospital, she might be able to help us out."

Too busy observing cars down on the surface, the patient didn't speak. Mark, on the other hand, nodded. She deserved to know, and he definitely trusted her. He doubted somebody would report their own brother.

"Well, I'll go and call her."

Watching him leave the room, the younger made his way over to the window. He slipped his arms around Taeyong's waist, pulling the elder into a hug from behind. The latter smiled as he looked out to the city.

"Are you okay now?"

There was a hum in response. "I'm better. It just happened so suddenly."

"Well, in somewhere like this, do you think it'll get any better?"

"Maybe. But what about after here? What if the police—"

"If they come anywhere near you, I'll deal with them."

The elder smiled—though Mark couldn't see—and looked like out at the cars hurrying along the road below. After a long while of silent affection, Taeil returned from the other room. The youngest quickly tore his arms away, turning to see the psychiatrist smiling.

"I have to go and visit Doyoung and Jaehyun, so Seulgi is coming to stay with you for an hour or two."

"We don't need a babysitter."

"I don't want my apartment burned to the ground, Mark, you're getting a babysitter. Plus, I'm sure Taeyong wants to see his sister."

The aforementioned remained silent, eyes still following the crowds of people below on the ground. Seeing them all run around, he grew curious. Just what did people do with their lives? They didn't need to search for food or cut firewood, they had everything given to them. People on the outside, if anything, seemed lazy. They didn't do _anything._ Taeil's job was just talking to people—or, at least that's all he had done with them—yet he was paid. Taeyong didn't quite understand the excitement and obsession with money, either. Nature provided everything people needed.

"But... can I speak to Doyoung?" asked Mark, "He did so much for me before I left, but I didn't even say goodbye to him."

"I have something to discuss with them, but I will tell them that you're safe if you'd like. I'm sure they'll want to see you both."

"Well, Taeyong? Would you like to see Jaehyun?"

He looked up, shrugging. "I don't really mind."

"If they want to see us, then let them. But I don't want them to be disappointed that we aren't particularly enthusiastic," Mark finalized.

"Alright. I'll arrange that," said Taeil.

His work was really piling up, but he accepted that when he didn't let Detective Kim report them. He thought perhaps he'd be able to convince them to go themselves, but as he thought about it, it likely wouldn't work. He'd gotten himself into quite the mess.

There was soon a knock on the door. He hurried over to answer it, and the second he opened the door, Seulgi hurried inside. She paused for a moment, but ran over to Taeyong and engulfed him in a hug. He was taken aback but relaxed. Perhaps he had missed people, after all. He'd thought for too long that he only needed Mark in his life, but it was looking as though that was wrong. Letting people into his life felt like a problem. Down to his strong survival instincts, he wasn't exactly trusting of everybody he met. But Seulgi, in particular, he'd felt as though he could trust. It was a sub-conscious memory. He knew she was familiar.

"Are you hurt? Have you been eating well?"

Taeyong chuckled. "I'm fine."

* * *

Taeil sighed as he made his way to Doyoung and Jaehyun's apartment. Walking up the stairs, he was glad when he wasn't met by the sound of shouting. He was already exhausted, and he didn't need anything else on his plate when he had to figure out what to do about the detective. He knew he wouldn't give in, and really, they did need to report Taeyong and Mark. It was just a matter of time before he had to betray their trust. But in the meantime, Seulgi was with them, so the psychiatrist didn't need to worry as he visited the others.

He knocked on the door, waiting patiently until it opened and Doyoung peeked out. He welcomed him inside, stepping away with a sigh of relief. "You don't understand just how happy I am to see you."

"I would be flattered, but you're worrying me now."

"Come inside, Jaehyun is waiting."

"Did you manage to stop him from drinking?" asked the elder as he followed.

"Just about. He's slept most of the day."

That was better than another argument breaking out, or even worse, a physical fight. Taeil had faith that even when Jaehyun was drunk, he'd never get physical, but there was one occasion when he'd pushed Doyoung—unintentionally—and the latter _had_ fallen. He apologized after beating himself up over it, just before the psychiatrist arrived to deal with the aftermath. Luckily, he didn't have much of a job.

When they reached the living room, Jaehyun was sat on the couch, his hair disheveled and looking rather drained. His eyes soon averted to the doorway, looking as though he was waiting for something as Doyoung remained standing. Taeil sat down, relieved by the rest, and quickly scanned over his ex-patient.

"Doyoung," Jaehyun spoke suddenly, "can you go in the other room?"

His partner was clearly taken aback. He looked down, a slight downward curve in his lips. "Alright."

"Thanks."

Taeil could feel the tension and he certainly wasn't enjoying it. The door closed with a gentle thud, allowing them both to relax. Jaehyun sunk into his seat, looking down at his clenched fist. The psychiatrist smiled weakly. He knew the younger's pride would be damaged because of the stigma of asking for help.

"I've thought about what you suggested," he began, "the... support group."

"Right. You didn't seem so sure last time, what changed your decision?"

"Well, it makes sense even though I don't like the idea of sharing my problems. But I made the decision for Doyoung. He's flinched once or twice, when we were arguing," Jaehyun replied, "I don't want him to fear me, that's just not right."

"Is there any particular reason _why_ he could have flinched?" asked Taeil, but he wasn't too sure what to expect for an answer.

The ex-patient seemed to hesitate, his eyes wandering down to the ground. "I may have gotten a little bit too... worked up, last night."

"Neither of you have told me that."

"Because you're busy with work, neither of us want to trouble you."

"I'm helping you, Jaehyun, I need to know these things."

"Well, can I go to the support group?"

"I'll need to fill in some paperwork first, it's a private group, so they keep member files. Of course, you also need to sign a confidentiality agreement and accept the terms. You could probably go to next week's session. I'll bring you the necessary paperwork and we can go into more detail later, okay?"

Jaehyun nodded. He seemed relieved just by the thought of dealing with the struggles he was going through. He knew it would be better to share them, but he feared judgment. Not everybody was the most thrilled about his past, or his relationship with Doyoung, for that matter.

"But there's something I should add," said the psychiatrist.

"Go on."

"If, at some point, you _do_ actually harm Doyoung—which I don't think you will—I will need to call the police, do you understand that?" he asked, "Or if your state declines and your dependency worsens, you will be admitted to Daehak to remove all possibilities of you touching a bottle until it's safe to discharge you."

The younger held his breath. "That's fine."

"So, last night?"

"Right, last night..."

"Did you hurt Doyoung?"

"Well, I was shouting. _Loud_. He told me to calm down, I cursed at him and lifted my hand," he replied, "but I swear I didn't touch him, I stopped myself because I realized what I was doing."

Taeil nodded slowly, eyes edging to the door to the other room. "This has happened how many times?"

"Maybe... three?"

"That's a problem, Jaehyun. You might stop yourself from hitting him, but if you were to even get close, it means you have the intention, even if it is on impulse. I'm concerned that you might actually hurt him. In that case, I've seen it get worse from there," the psychiatrist sat back, crossing his arms. "In any other circumstance, I'd suggest distance. Of course, that isn't particularly possible. You can't live alone. So, we need to work on what _causes_ that anger."

Jaehyun was listening carefully, and that gave Taeil hope. He knew the younger didn't have negative intentions.

"I'm not a fool, this isn't a perfect world, so I know you can't drop the drink straight away. It would do more harm than good. I want to trust you to cut down, but I'm not sure if you can do that."

"I can try," said the ex-patient, "Doyoung can also monitor—"

"No. You have to do this alone. If he prevents you from drinking, you know what will happen. Also, you're alone for a few hours a day while he's in university. That's normally when you go out and get drunk."

"What if I can't do it?"

"Then I will have to consider admitting you to Daehak, which means I'll need to go through a lengthy process to have you taken against your will because I know you don't want to have a repeat of the last location. Of course, there are also specialists that you can see."

Jaehyun shook his head vigorously. "I don't trust some random people off of the street, that's why I've come to you."

"I'm flattered, but this isn't my expertise—"

"You're doing a good job so far. Look, I'll go to the support group and I'll _try_ to use my self-control to stop myself from getting drunk every day."

"Alright, we can talk again when I have all of the paperwork. Until then, call me if anything happens."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story is quite Taeil-orientated at the moment, but it's just for the reintroduction. There will be more MarkYong from now on.
> 
> Any thoughts about the chapter? Let me know!


	4. Reacquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Old friends are given the opportunity to meet after a long three years apart. Both Mark and Taeyong are struggling to adapt to their changed circumstances, and the situation is worsened when Detective Kim goes behind Taeil's back.

Taeyong looked at Seulgi, completely bewildered as she stood at the door holding a crutch. Stood behind Taeil, the patient furrowed his eyebrows, looking over to Mark. When his sister held it out to him, he hesitantly accepted it. He wasn't expecting much when they were taken in-because he thought that was already troublesome enough-but he was glad that he wouldn't need to hobble around, walking at speeds even a sloth could beat. It wasn't as he needed to walk far in a day, but he didn't want to do absolutely nothing all day, so he resorted to doing very slow rounds around the apartment. He had nothing to do.

The action had even had Taeil concerned, as Taeyong hadn't even noticed him standing there as he observed. He thought he was completely out of it. But the psychiatrist had been observing him whenever he could. He needed a plan; somehow, he had to figure something out. That would require knowledge. He hated how obvious it was that the patient felt contained, he was acting similar to some of the patients in Daehak, the only difference being that he wasn't _as_ restricted. He really was unalike anybody who he'd worked with. Even when he'd known him longer, it was as though he never truly knew Taeyong. He was beginning to understand why he was regarded as a lost cause.

"It's no good if you fall, so I managed to get this for you. I can get another if that would be easier for you."

"This is fine," he replied quietly.

She smiled at him before looking at her watch. "I need to go to work for the night shift, I'll come and see you again for longer when I have time."

Taeyong nodded, and Taeil mouthed a thank you to her. That was one less worry. The problem was, there were _plenty_ more where that came from.

"Be careful," Seulgi finalized, "and don't let Mark get lazy."

"I won't," the patient chuckled, hearing the younger huff from the couch.

He had been rather unmotivated, too. He didn't need to search for food anymore or make water-catching contraptions. He just watched the television all day, occasionally checking on Taeyong as he wouldn't sit still. He hated the television-which actually amused Mark-and tensed up when Taeil had turned it on during their first night there. He'd obviously seen one before, but a lot had changed since he'd actually lived in a house. The sound still made him on edge if he didn't know that it was on, because of the unfamiliar voices blasting from the machine. Mark had joked around with him about it at first, but the enjoyment soon faded when he realized that he wasn't just being finicky, he was _genuinely_ scared.

Hearing the door close, the youngest looked over. Taeyong made his way over, relieved that he didn't need to rely on his feeble legs as much, as the psychiatrist locked the door. He waited for the patient to get to the couch and sat down.

"Can we talk?" he asked, "Since we couldn't yesterday."

Taeyong looked at Mark. He was looking for any sort of reaction, trying to evaluate whether he thought it was a good idea. He still felt wary. The younger just shrugged, realizing his input was wanted.

"Well, I suppose so," said the patient.

"Do you want Mark to stay?"

He nodded. Taeil wasn't particularly surprised, which is why he asked in the first place, but he'd have preferred to have talked to Taeyong and him alone. He'd just have to gain the patient's trust again, and _quickly_.

"I've noticed you've been acting quite strange in here, is it because you're not used to being in an environment like this anymore?"

Taeyong thought, propping his crutch against the couch. "It feels like... a cage. But a nicer cage than I'm used to."

"So, you're just bored? I want you to be comfortable, so if I can make some changes, I will."

"Well, I can't do anything here."

"I'm worried that the behavior will stick. I'll try to think of something. Is there anything you enjoy doing?"

"Well, I haven't really done anything in a while. You can't give me a forest to explore," Taeyong replied.

Taeil nodded. He certainly couldn't.

"What about learning to write? You were doing that for a while," Mark suggested.

The patient shook his head. "I can't. I can't see out of one eye and my hand is too shaky."

"So, not even reading?"

"I can't read and there's nobody to _teach_ me. Seulgi is busy."

"Mark? Do you think you could teach him?"

"Me?" he looked taken aback, "I'm not a good teacher-"

"It's worth a shot, though. It gives you both something to do."

The youngest certainly didn't seem sure. "Alright, if that's what he wants, I'll try."

"Well, that's that decided. I'll get something. But one more thing, your memories."

"Right, those..." the patient tensed, his eyes averting to the ground.

"I know it can be hard, but rather than _fear_ them, you should work on trying to accept them. Accept that it happened, it won't happen again, and that you don't need to be held back by them."

Taeyong stayed silent and completely still. He'd have rather not have to think about them at all.

"Of course, I will work with you. We can figure out what will work for you," said the psychiatrist, observing the younger.

"Ignoring them works fine."

"No, it doesn't. You have nightmares and you've got irrational fears because of the resurfaced memories. You're not the confident, argumentative Taeyong you used to be."

He huffed. "That's because Johnny isn't here to argue with."

"Well, there's that, but you _aren't_ the same, and that's the point I'm trying to make. Ignoring it won't help. Now that you're here, we can also think about your neurological troubles and try to help those, too."

"You can't keep us here forever," Taeyong replied, "I'm not sure you have time to do that."

"You're right, I can't. But as long as you are here, I'll spend my time that I'm at home helping you."

* * *

In the morning, Taeil disappeared early. Taeyong had later wandered from the bedroom and into the main room where he sat by the window as he usually did, opening it slightly to let the fresh air inside. Feeling the cold air against his face was calming. It made him forget that he was actually inside, eight floors from the ground, and not allowed to leave. He could hear the birds chirp, flying overhead. He heard the door behind him click open, but knowing it was Mark, he didn't spare him a glance.

"It's freezing, why are you sticking your head out of the window?"

"Because it's better than this stuffy air."

The younger raised an eyebrow, making his way over to the window. "It's fine, it's warm when you _don't_ have the window open."

"Warm isn't nice to breathe in."

"Okay, sit by the window then. But don't freeze the room all day, Taeil won't want to come back into an igloo."

"Igloo?"

"Ice house."

"I'd like an ice house," said Taeyong.

"Of course you would."

He closed the window, grabbing his crutch from the ground to pull the chair back over to the table. He struggled, but eventually, he managed to return it to its place as Mark watched him, concerned.

"I'm turning the sound on," he announced.

Taeyong hummed in response. He didn't get the excitement over things on the TV, and the idea that there were _somehow_ people on the screen didn't exactly settle well with him. He didn't know how it worked, nor did he particularly care, but Mark seemed to enjoy the entertainment, so he didn't mind. Hearing the voices echo from the machine, the patient put his head down, gaze fixed on the ground. He made his way into the bathroom, prompting the younger to turn around and give him a look of pity, which he thankfully couldn't see.

Mark knew Taeyong didn't want to accept that he was "weak" in any way. The truth was obvious, however. He _couldn't_ protect himself even if he wanted to. He needed somebody to protect him, so the younger was going to be that person. The tables had turned; he was once the protected, but he wanted to repay him. He was aware that he didn't need to, but even then, he wanted to make the patient's life easier. But Mark himself was rather out of touch with reality. The severity hadn't quite settled in.

Some moments later, he could hear the sound of the crutch colliding with the ground. Taeyong soon edged into view, taking a seat on the couch beside the younger. It took a while for Mark's innate fear to settle in. He rapidly turned around, eyes wide as the patient held his hand out, a large, disgusting eight-legged creature crawling over it. The elder had a look of awe, his soft eyes following the spider as though it was some fluffy dog. But it wasn't-it was a creature Mark _despised_.

He jumped out of his seat, hurrying away from the couch. Taeyong looked over, curious as to why the younger had fled, and furrowed his eyebrows. A shaky finger pointed in his direction. "Kill it!"

"Why?"

"It's disgusting!"

The patient shook his head. "I told Taeil I wouldn't kill anymore."

"That is different!" Mark shouted, his clenched fists resting on the back of the couch. " _That_ is vermin."

"That was rude."

"At least throw it out of the window."

Taeyong frowned, standing up. He turned his hand around, allowing the spider to walk over the back of his hand. He opened the window, looking back at Mark hoping that he'd have mercy on the creature, but he didn't look like he would any time soon.

"I'm sorry, he's mean. You're losing your house."

"I'm sure it can't understand. They live outside anyway."

The patient watched as it crawled off of his hand and waved. The younger scoffed from behind him, shaking his head. When the window was closed, Mark sat down. Though looking disheartened, Taeyong joined him. He rested his head on the younger's shoulder.

* * *

Taeil stood outside of his apartment door, waiting for when Doyoung and Jaehyun arrived. When they eventually did, he was glad to see that the latter looked sober. But he _was_ good at hiding things. He smiled gently as they walked down the hallway. "To start, I told you both that Taeyong is sick, right?"

They shared glances, making the psychiatrist sigh. Jaehyun shook his head. "You wouldn't tell us anything. Is it serious?"

"He's more than likely got a neurological disorder. He's having trouble walking, thinking, and he's gone blind in his left eye."

The elder of the couple cursed, looking down at the ground.

"So, for that reason, I'd appreciate it if you could stay to his right side. Just for his comfort. He usually has Mark to his left because he trusts him. But also, just in general, please refrain from doing anything suddenly. He's quite jumpy and remembers his father's abuse," Taeil added. "And in Mark's case, he's _really_ protective. He's changed a fair bit."

"He hasn't gone feral too, has he?" asked Doyoung.

"No. It can only happen to children, Mark was old enough when they ran away that he's mostly the same. It's only been three years, after all. He's just adapted to their more difficult life and is subconsciously responding to Taeyong's state."

"Makes sense."

"Can we go in now?" asked Jaehyun, "They know we're coming, right?"

The psychiatrist nodded. "Of course I asked them first, they know you're here. Come on."

He opened the door. Jaehyun hurried past him, going through the door, but he paused, looking over at the couch where they were both sitting. They looked over in their direction and Mark smiled, standing up, but Taeyong simply looked down at his lap. Doyoung ran over to his friend and hugged him—even though the latter wasn't the most affectionate person—but he had gone three years having no idea whether Mark was dead or alive. Jaehyun cleared his throat, slowly edging over to Taeyong.

"I'm glad you're back," he said plainly, tapping the patient on the shoulder.

He looked at Doyoung, their eyes meeting for a moment before he looked away.

"You can't disappear again!" he insisted, "If I find out you've even _thought_ about disappearing, I'll lock you in a room."

"That's a bit excessive," said Mark.

But Doyoung didn't falter. His gaze was serious, looking at his friend in the eyes. "I was worried for three years—that's a long time!"

"Well, I don't think we're planning on going far."

"That's understandable," said Jaehyun, looking down at Taeyong as the elder, gripped onto his crutch, "I don't think you'd get very far anyway."

He was nudged by Doyoung but merely shrugged. He _was_ right. A sigh slipped out of the patient's lips and he sat back, sure, he was happy to see them, but it felt abnormal to him. They hadn't seen each other in years. It almost felt like the people who stood before him were completely different.

"Are you alright?" asked Jaehyun.

Taeyong shrugged. He didn't really know what "alright" was anymore. Living was far easier than it had been beforehand, it felt almost _too_ easy. "I suppose."

"What will you do now?" asked Doyoung, "I mean, you're still wanted—both of you now."

"I think that's something we'll decide as we go. But I doubt the police will be happy if we turn up again," Mark replied.

Taeil felt horrible, thinking that he'd have to tear them apart. He sighed quietly, not wanting anybody to notice. They couldn't continue their lifestyle, and he knew that, not if they wanted to stay together and live long lives. But he couldn't help but wonder what would happen if they _did_ continue that life. After all, especially for Taeyong, it was what they were used to. In addition to that, the government was unpredictable. He didn't know what would be the safest option, but he knew he had to figure something out—and soon. The urgency stressed him further.

* * *

The week passed far more quickly than Taeil had imagined. He'd hardly gotten anywhere, with Taeyong remaining reluctant to speak about the past. The psychiatrist understood, of course, but it meant he really _didn't_ know what he was dealing with. He planned to have one final attempt when he would return from work, and on his lunch break, he wrote down some considerations and ideas to get through to the patient. He knew it would be difficult, if not almost impossible.

He had a long gap between the time which he had to eat and his final patient of the day—Donghyuk. Taeil finished the meal he prepared for himself and set the container aside, his attention turning back to the notepad on the desk. He gently tapped the pen on the paper as a sigh escaped through his lips.

With his face buried into his hands, the psychiatrist jumped when his phone abruptly began to vibrate on the desk. He turned it over, and seeing Detective Kim's number displayed, he knew what he had to do. He answered the call. "It's good you called, actually, I need more time with Taeyong. Just a few days will do. I promise that'll be—"

 _"Taeil,"_ the elder said on the other side, _"I've told them."_

"You didn't think to _ask_ me first?"

_"I knew you'd ask for more time. This is for the best."_

"I thought you were on my side! At least let me see them so I can explain that you're the one who reported them."

_"About that..."_

"I can't believe you. _Why_ couldn't you just trust me?"

_"Both of our careers were on the line. I was saving us both from punishment. I took them to the Chief and told him they were found wandering the streets."_

"They're going to hate me!"

_"They'll get over it, Taeil. This is for the best."_

Taeil clenched his fist on the desk, taking in a deep breath to prevent further shouting.

"If something goes wrong, I won't let you forget it. You better hope that they're both fine."

_"Listen, I'll keep you updated. Drop by after work. I'm sure the Chief will let you see them and you can tell them that you weren't involved."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a shorter chapter (and I apologize for that!) as my mind's been all over the place. The colder weather isn't good for my motivation, plus I thought this chapter was rather boring so I was procrastinating. I'll try to update again soon!


	5. So Far Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faced with a setback, Taeil visits Mark and Taeyong. He is faced with further complications when fear flips a switch in Taeyong's mind.

Taeil wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived at the police station. But seeing Mark alone in a holding cell, sat on the ground—when there was a perfectly usable seat on the back wall—facing away from the door, certainly wasn't on his mind. He'd expected that Taeyong would be with him, maybe in a separate corner, or perhaps even hugging the younger, terrified. After all, he wasn't the same as he was three years ago. Mark had broken through his emotional barrier. So had his memories, far more detrimentally. The psychiatrist had half expected to have to somehow comfort the patient while he was enraged right through to the bone.

"Mark, where's Taeyong?" he asked, involuntarily sounding rather nervous.

He heard a snicker from the younger, unsurprisingly. His lips faltered into a frown. He couldn't even act surprised, he _knew_ Mark was probably blaming him at that moment. He was probably thinking of ways to get to Taeil, tear him apart for the suffering he had caused, and leave him for dead. Those were certainly the vibes he was getting as he caught a glance of the younger's clenched jaw and balled fists. For once, he was glad to be separated by bars. A feeling of dread welled in the psychiatrist's stomach as he considered that Mark and Taeyong may have never trusted again. Sure, he was supposed to remain collected during interactions, but the younger _wasn't_ his patient. He was an acquaintance. Once a friend, even.

"Mark, _please_. At least hear me out before you decide to hate me."

"You tricked us!"

"I didn't, I swear," Taeil insisted, "I didn't agree to report you."

"And _how_ am I supposed to believe that? You're a hotshot now. Why would you risk your job in order to help a couple of wanderers? Hell, even _I_ wouldn't!" Mark exclaimed.

The psychiatrist could see the rage in his eyes. A burning hatred. He'd never seen the younger respond in such a way, but then again, he never had the chance to. Taeil slumped where he was stood, shrinking down until he was crouching on the ground. The station had fallen silent. 

He exhaled a shaky breath, eyes scanning the pattern on the flooring. "Listen to me."

"You don't need to. Actions speak louder than words, Taeil. I'm _sure_ you've heard that before. You don't care anymore—it's fine, I understand!"

"For God's sake, Mark, be quiet for a minute. I'm telling you the truth!" said the psychiatrist, "I would never leave you or Taeyong behind. I get that maybe it's too much to trust me after this, but at least _believe_ me. The Detective wanted to report you right away, I managed to convince him to give me a week, but I was going to ask for longer. He reported you, not me. But you have to understand that he was doing it with Taeyong's health in mind."

"A week for what? If we were being hunted down, what difference would a week make?"

"I was going to convince you both to hand yourselves over willingly. We would have been at an advantage then, I was going to request to be Taeyong's psychiatrist, which would allow me to make decisions rather than a stranger who could deem him unfit to live in society."

He heard Mark exhale and watched as the younger held his head in his hands, still refusing to turn around. Taeil had given in and was sat on the floor, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the officers.

"So, I'll ask you again," said the psychiatrist, "where is Taeyong?"

"I don't know. They forced me out of the van, but he never followed. They must have taken him somewhere else. You _have_ to get him back, he must be terrified!"

"I'm not sure about 'back', but I can visit him. Probably."

"Just make sure he's alright."

Taeil nodded, though the younger couldn't see. "What about you? Are you alright?"

"Of course I am," he replied, "I'm just worried."

"Are you sure?"

"I can handle a bunch of cops."

"What are they planning to do with you?"

Mark sighed, looking down at his hands as he wrapped the other around his fist. "I don't know. I heard something about fines."

"Money," Taeil groaned, "listen, we can deal with that later, I'll find out where Taeyong is."

"We?" the younger inquired, "There is no 'we', I'm dealing with this alone."

"Is that because you want to be independent, or because you don't trust me?"

There was no response. The psychiatrist sighed quietly, closing his eyes as he rubbed his temples. Of course, it wouldn't be that easy. They were complex beings, after all. Hatred, trust, and anger weren't any simple or plain sailing features of the human psyche. Taeil accepted silence as a response, standing up from the floor. He dusted himself off, looking back at Mark to see him peeking slightly in his direction, but he soon looked away.

"I'm leaving now. I'll be back to update you later."

He didn't move an inch. Taeil decided that was his cue to leave. Wandering toward the offices, he caught sight of Detective Kim stood at the door to his office, leaning on the doorframe with his arms crossed. His eyes softened when he saw the psychiatrist, standing upright as he expected to be shouted at.

"I saw you talking to Mark, so I decided to wait."

"I'm glad you still have _some_ consideration left. Though, it'd have been better if you used it to notify me that you were going to ruin my progress."

"We agreed on a week," said the Detective, "it's been a week, so I kept my side of the deal."

Taeil sighed. "I know it was a deal. I'm sorry for freaking out, but I'm just worried about Mark and Taeyong."

"I can understand that, it's in your nature. You're naturally a caring man. But we both have a duty, and that duty is to _protect_. It might seem horrible to them now, but in the long run, it's better for them. Taeyong can get help from a psychiatrist and a neurologist, Mark can return to a somewhat normal life and get help if it's needed."

"So, do you know where Taeyong is?"

"I somehow knew that's what you'd ask next," Detective Kim chuckled, "the last thing I heard was that he was in the hospital, but that was when I called you."

"Is there a way that you can find out? I want to make sure he's alright. He's a bit more... restless, now."

"I can make a call. Let's go inside first."

Taeil nodded. "Thank you, really. I guess that's our little partnership finished, huh?"

"I don't think so. My instincts tell me that we'll need to keep in contact. But the search should be done. You can disassemble your information wall now."

That was something he certainly wouldn't miss. He looked like an obsessive parent trying to find their lost child—or, so Sicheng had commented—and it was beginning to take up a little bit _too_ much room.

Detective Kim took out his phone. Searching for a contact as the door to the office closed, he quickly looked over his notepad in which he had scribbled a phone number down. Upon confirming that he was indeed about to call the correct person, he pressed the button and placed the phone down on the desk, ensuring that it was on speaker for the ease of not having to repeat everything. Taeil waited in anticipation.

_"Hello?"_

"Is this Doctor Yoon? It's Kim Daesik from the detective's office."

_"Ah, I was wondering when you'd call."_

"Has Lee Taeyong been transferred yet?"

_"He has. He's been assessed, he's eaten and we've taken blood samples for further testing before we have some specialists visit him. He was a bit feisty, but we gave him some space and he calmed down."_

"So, he's in Daehak?"

_"Ah, sorry. Yes—he's in Daehak."_

"Do you have the ward information?"

_"He's temporarily in ward four until they've evaluated him."_

Detective Kim looked up, checking for any response from Taeil. The latter mouthed something which he could hardly understand, but eventually, his mind clicked. "Is he healthy, from what you've seen so far?"

_"Like last time, he needs to gain some weight. I did some basic tests and asked some questions about your concerns. Also... about his mobility issues. Rather than jumping straight to the suspected cause's treatments, I think it'll be logical to work on building up the muscle mass he lost in his legs over time. He doesn't have any major injuries, his heart and breathing seem normal, I also didn't notice any alarming signs of illness."_

"Alright, thanks for the information."

_"No problem. I'll be visiting the station tomorrow to assess Mark Lee, too."_

"I'll let you go. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?"

_"That you will."_

The Detective's eyes met Taeil's. The psychiatrist seemed relieved. "Well, are you coming?"

"To Daehak?" asked Detective Kim, "No, I think it's better if I stay here. Taeyong might not react so positively if he sees me."

"Okay. I better go now, before it's lights out."

* * *

The later it got in the day, the creepier the hallways of ward four got. They were almost deserted, with only an occasional member of staff wandering around the halls, delivering medication to rooms. Looking through the bars separating the staircase from the rooms, Taeil sighed as he reached the sign-in desk. The woman who sat behind the desk hated it just as much as he did.

"You're not normally here at this time," she pointed out, "and you're not wearing your coat."

"I'm not here for work. Is there any way I can see Lee Taeyong?"

She certainly recognized the name, her gaze shrinking to the desk. "You know unscheduled visits aren't allowed up here."

"Just five minutes, _please_."

"I'm not sure—"

"Let him," a familiar voice called out, "if any of the higher-ups complain, tell them to speak to me."

Doctor Jang. While they didn't necessarily meet on good terms, it was somewhat relieving that the older psychiatrist was there to let him in. But he hadn't been around in a while, which left Taeil to ponder if he returned _just_ for Taeyong. The woman unlocked the gate, smiling gently at the psychiatrist as he walked through. Taeil bowed at Doctor Jang, but the latter merely shook his head.

"It's alright, I actually wanted to talk to you."

"You did?"

"Well, you are the one who knows Taeyong the best. Follow me," he said, "I'm not sure if I'm the best psychiatrist for him."

Taeil paused in his tracks, taken aback. "What?"

"Well, I can't exactly comprehend his life and his behavioral... inconsistencies."

"But you've worked with neglect patients before, right?"

"I have," Doctor Jang replied, "but those patients were children whose parents ignored them and left them to their own devices rather than leaving them to survive outside and live with animals."

He _did_ understand where the elder was coming from. Taeyong was different from practically all other patients from similar pasts.

"I'd like to formally request for his care to be transferred to you, but of course, I need you to agree to it."

"I'll take over, that's fine."

"Let's just hope that your supervisor is fond of the idea. I'd like to return to the facility I work in and stay there rather than move around constantly."

Taeil continued to follow Doctor Jang, smiling to himself. At least he'd have a chance to help Taeyong himself. He wasn't at capacity, he could easily take on another patient. He looked around. He'd never really been so far into the ward—given that his patient was in one of the first rooms—and it somehow got even eerier with every step. It was dark, quiet, and cold. Taeil felt a shiver run up his spine. He _really_ hated ward four, and he was sure that the patients despised it even more.

Just when he thought it couldn't get any worse, the sound of metal colliding with the floor echoed throughout the surrounding area. Doctor Jang's eyes widened, muttering something that the younger psychiatrist could hardly understand; yet he knew it wasn't good. They both sped up, before the elder broke into a run. They darted around the corner.

"What happened?" asked Doctor Jang.

When Taeil slinked behind him like a duckling to its mother, he was met with something which immediately made his jaw fall slack. Another psychiatrist stood clenching his hand with his other. There was a cluster of drops of blood on the ground, leaking from his injured hand. Taeil's eyes shot to the room as Doctor Jang moved the other psychiatrist to the side.

Some feeling was wreaking havoc in the youngest psychiatrist's body. He couldn't pinpoint _exactly_ what it was, but it was dreadful—fearful, almost. His entire body succumbed to a chill as he saw Taeyong in the room, the institution's clothing wrapped around his thin frame as he was sat on the bed with the handcuffs still on him and an eyepatch snugly wrapped around his face. But that wasn't all.

The slightest smudge of blood was set beneath his bottom lip. Taeil observed as the patient's chest heaved in and out, his entire body tensed as his eyes remained fixed on the injured psychiatrist. Making eye contact with Doctor Jang, both of them were left speechless. Taeyong had _bitten_ him, and drawn blood, too.

"Care to give us an explanation, either of you?"

The psychiatrist stood up straight, his hand still gripping the wound to prevent blood loss. "It was my fault. I think I shifted out of view for a while, I must have startled him when I knocked the tray by accident. But he wouldn't let go, I had to try and force my hand away but it made it worse."

"An accident, huh?" Doctor Jang muttered.

Taeil kept his gaze on Taeyong a while longer. The latter seemed frozen, unwilling to move as people began to shuffle before him.

"You head to first aid. I'll finish up here with Doctor Moon."

Once the other psychiatrist disappeared around the corner, Doctor Jang let out a sigh.

"I'll deal with Taeyong, you just... clean the blood up or something."

The elder hummed. "Well, I'll have to fill in the incident report so I won't object."

Taeil waited until Doctor Jang headed towards the staff area. As the former made his way into the room, Taeyong's gaze followed him. But he didn't look angry. His one visible eye was soft, yet dark. The psychiatrist shuffled over so he would be clearly in the patient's limited vision and crouched so he wasn't peering over him.

"Are you scared?"

"Where is Mark?" the younger questioned.

"He's in a holding cell for tonight, the Detective is with him. He was worried about you."

Taeyong frowned, looking down. He lifted his cuffed wrists and brought his thumb to his face, wiping the blood away.

"Is there blood in your mouth?"

Ignoring his question, the patient wiped the blood on his clothes, seeing no other option. "When can I leave?"

"I'm not sure," Taeil responded, "can I ask you something?"

Taeyong nodded slightly.

"Why did you bite the man?"

"Mark isn't here, he can't defend me. It was instinctive."

Nodding, the elder hummed. "You know you can't do that, right?"

"Of course I do."

"Then that's good. Just don't do it again."

"I won't."

Taeil turned around to see Doctor Jang on the ground, using a cloth to wipe up the small drops of blood on the floor. The younger psychiatrist chuckled. "All done in here. It won't happen again."

"Good, good. Let's just hope for our acquaintance's sake that he isn't rabid."

Whether he was joking or not, Taeil furrowed his eyebrows. He was just glad that Taeyong didn't have the slightest idea of what he was talking about.

"That's not really appropriate—"

"I know," said Doctor Jang, standing up with a struggle.

"When can you talk to the supervisor?"

"You're keen, aren't you? I'll talk to him first thing tomorrow. I'll be heading home now."

The younger nodded.

"Are you coming? As in, leaving the building, not home with me."

"No, I think I'm going to stay for a while longer and check on the one who was bitten."

"I see," said Doctor Jang, "alright."

* * *

"Mark Lee," said a detective, but not one that he immediately recognized, "I think you're rather lucky. The prosecution has requested a quiet solution to the crimes you committed while you were on the run with Lee Taeyong, given the circumstances. The only way this will all get messy again is if you decide to argue _against_ your case and reduce the punishment further, which will cost you even more."

"Stop sugar coating it and get to the point," said Mark, scowling, "how much money do I owe?"

"A thousand dollars, to be paid to the people and businesses you stole from."

He supposed it was better than jail time. "Is there a time limit?"

"Two months, so you can maintain your livelihood. It would be no good if you fell into poverty and had to steal again," the man explained, "but that's not all."

"What else?" Mark groaned.

"During those two months, we expect you to partake in community service. Unpaid labor for our trouble."

"Of course. You 'peacekeepers' love enslaving people."

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Mark. Just accept the terms and you can be released. Read through this sheet of paper and sign," he said, sliding a sheet of paper across the table.

He looked at it for a moment—skipping over a large chunk of writing—and cut straight to signing it. He handed it back and raised his hands, urging the detective to release him from the handcuffs. The older man sighed, grabbing a key to unlock them, and took them away.

"You're free to go. The details of your community service hours will be available at the front desk."

Mark hadn't run out of a room so fast in his life. The detective stood watching him sprint down the hallway. Soon, Detective Kim emerged from the observation room and crossed his arms over his chest as Mark disappeared around the corner. "Now all that's left to do is ensure that he severed ties with Lee Taeyong—right?"

The unfamiliar detective nodded. "Right."

* * *

It had already passed lights out by the time Taeil managed to talk to the psychiatrist who faced Taeyong's wrath, subsequently apologizing for the patient's actions. If it hadn't been so late, he'd have gotten him to apologize, too. But the psychiatrist understood—at least, he _kind_ of did—and wasn't fretting over it. The wound wasn't that bad, it just could have been prevented entirely or even simply reduced had he not been so surprised when it had happened.

Walking back through the ward, he decided to stop off at Taeyong's room on the way out. The door was locked and it was dark, but he could see the younger asleep on top of the covers. Perhaps it was due to the whole biting endeavor, but he didn't _seem_ angry. Taeil had some hope that he understood it was for his own good that they were reported, but he wasn't sure. If their roles were reversed, and he was being taken away from Johnny, he was sure he'd be furious. He wouldn't care about his own health in that situation.

If Taeyong was going to act like an adult in that situation—which he really, _really_ doubted—then his job would have been far easier. But unfortunately for him, the stars were unlikely to align in such a way. They never did. It was just how the world worked. But Taeil was determined to make a difference in his life. If it meant that it would take years, then so be it. He wanted to free the patient from the grips of his demons and let him live a normal life; whatever that would be for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, if you ever sign a contract, _read_ the damn thing, and thoroughly.
> 
> Any thoughts?


	6. Lost Files

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark has to abandon some of his pride when faced with two undesirable options, and Taeil learns more about Taeyong's past. Ten and Kun's relationship continues to head downhill, due to the latter's lack of remorse and distorted view of his crime.

Walking along a road, Mark kicked a stone into the zone of wrath which the moving vehicles provided. He hadn't the slightest idea of what his life would bring him from thereon—aside from working to give other people money and being enslaved by the "justice" system—or whether he'd be able to see Taeyong again. More importantly at that moment, he had nowhere to go. Wandering through the city, he felt disheartened by the tall buildings that surrounded him. As people walked past him, he tensed and observed them carefully. He didn't know why he was so on edge.

Hearing the crumbling of stone, Mark turned around. He was surprised to see Taeil stood behind him, wrapped in a warm coat as the younger was simply dressed in his worn-down and thin clothing. Cleaning clothes in a lake didn't have the nicest effects on them. The elder's warm breath blew a small cloud into the icy air, giving Mark a look of pity. "What are you doing here?"

"A friendly cop notified me that you were wandering the street. I'm here to offer a roof over your head."

"I don't need your help."

Taeil sighed, shaking his head. "Then, I suppose I should tell the police. They need to know where to find you. They'll contact your parents instead."

"I'm an adult, they can't get my parents involved."

"You're homeless, they can contact anybody who may give you a place to stay."

The scowl on Mark's face clearly showed that he was being serious about not accepting the psychiatrist's help. But he _had_ to. Taeil wasn't lying for the sake of tricking the younger.

"Fine."

"It's also good as I might be Taeyong's psychiatrist. You can be closer to him through me, I might even be able to arrange a visit."

 _Bingo._ Mark's face lit up immediately. "Really?"

"If all goes well, yes. Until then, I can supervise you and make sure you don't disappear without paying your fine and completing your community service."

"Right, that."

"It's not too bad! Think about it, you could have been behind bars right now, eating slop and being harassed by a cellmate. I think you've gotten lucky."

"Not lucky. Everybody treats me like Taeyong is a risk to me like he forced me to run away with him."

* * *

Hearing a bell, Ten walked through the poorly-lit hallway. A door was opened for him, and he stepped inside a room. Quickly looking around to see an officer stood by the door, he sighed, but sat down on a chair, waiting for the door on the opposite side of the barrier to open. He looked down at his fingers, waiting patiently. The door soon made the noise signaling it had been opened.

Ten looked up, not batting an eyelid as Kun sat down, his lip visibly burst with cuts scattered across both his face and fists. The prisoner had his overalls tied around his waist, revealing the tank top he was wearing underneath. Ten simply smiled gently, and Kun managed to force a grin through his beaten up face.

"How have you been?" asked Ten, sat forward with his arms across his chest, "It's been a while."

"I'm fine—as good as I _can_ be, here. But I suppose it's the downside to my services."

The younger nodded promptly. He'd learned to just agree, rather than to flare up another argument which would just push them further away.

"How's your medication?"

"So, you don't ask how _I_ am, but you ask how my medication is?" Ten chuckled, only half-joking, "It works, I think. I haven't had another relapse since last year."

"Good," said Kun, running his fingers across his scarred knuckles, "I wish you'd come and see me more often. I still have a long while until I get released."

The younger sighed. "I know, but I just hate it here."

"So do I, but I'm in here every hour of every day."

"That's different."

"Not _really,_ " Kun persisted, "I'm in here for a rather outrageous reason. Don't hurt the criminals, they're keeping these guys busy."

"But... maybe you _shouldn't_ have killed that man?"

The elder paused, a quiet laugh escaping his lips. "Maybe. Who's to know? Maybe it's a good thing, that man was a predator, and I wiped him out."

"Then what does that make you?"

"A hero."

"It wasn't worth it. You'll get out of prison when you're thirty-five—that's in nine years—and what then? Say we _do_ move back in together. Are you going to come smothered in blood and expect me to lie for you?"

"Who knows?"

"Kun, your ambiguity doesn't help."

He sighed, looking down at his cuffed hands. "Listen, I know you don't like how I've turned out. It's obvious. I'm not going to do something to make you suffer if I can avoid it. But that means I have to work _against_ my thoughts and urges."

"Well, we can work together—"

"No, this is my battle. I don't want you to get hurt," said Kun.

"I'm not suggesting that I fight your battle _for_ you, I'm suggesting that we can work together. I can be the one to hand you the weapon to fight that battle."

"What do you have in mind then? What can possibly help me win and return to my old self?"

"Love, Kun," said Ten, "love can defeat this."

Rather involuntarily, Kun burst into laughter. The handcuffs around his wrists colliding with the metal table, he sat against the back of the chair. "Love and hate are the same. Hate can turn to love, and love can turn to hate."

"So, you can easily start hating me. I don't see what other points you're trying to make here," said Ten, disheartened.

"Leave yourself out of my battle. You don't want me to turn around and stab you in the back, do you?"

* * *

"Speak of the devil," said Doctor Jang, "Doctor Moon, can you come here?"

As Taeil walked through the security door, he was met by Taeyong's current psychiatrist and the senior supervisor, Doctor Hak. Looking at the unimpressed, stern look on the supervisor's face, the youngest nervously looked over to Doctor Jang.

"Tell him that you've agreed to the transfer."

"I have, I think it's in the patient's best interest to have a psychiatrist who can understand his—"

"You're connected to the patient, it's against the code of conduct to get involved with his treatment," said Doctor Hak.

"I'm aware of that, but the circumstances..."

The supervisor sighed, his arms crossed over his chest. "I heard that the patient injured a member of staff last night."

"That was dealt with at the time," Doctor Jang responded, "it wasn't due to malicious intent."

"I'm not doubting your capability of handling Lee Taeyong, Doctor Moon, I'm concerned that you're approaching him as a friend rather than as a psychiatrist. You're not a therapist, you're a healer. You have to treat him if you take that role."

"I know, I'm prepared to treat him as appropriate to his condition and limitations."

Doctor Hak seemed to think, looking into the distance where other members of staff wandered around. "This would _not_ be supported by the health board."

" _Please,_ Doctor Hak. He's been through so much, he just needs some stability and consistency. What good would it be if he was assigned to a psychiatrist who isn't confident with him?"

"I'm _not_ saying yes," he said, "but if you can prove to me that you can make progress with him, I'll consider it."

To say Doctor Jang was relieved was an understatement, even if it wasn't exactly confirmed, quite yet.

"Until then, you can work together."

"Thank you," Taeil nodded, "I won't let you down."

"We'll see about that. Doctor Jang, before you allow him to have access to your patient, please show him the files from Namhyeon."

"I think I've already seen them—"

Doctor Hak shook his head. "The sheet that the police found in the building isn't the complete file, Doctor Moon. You should have realized how basic it was. Due to Lee Taeyong's... absurd past and violent tendencies, there's quite a lot to read. I looked it over briefly. It seems there's more to him than immediately meets the eye."

"In a good way?"

"You can see for yourself."

The supervisor looked to Doctor Jang, who seemed to understand the cue. "Come on, I'll give it to you."

"I suppose I have time."

"Read it over while I check on Taeyong. When do you have to return to ward three?"

"I don't have anything to do until one."

"That's good, you can see him again and start being productive, I suppose?"

Taeil nodded as they walked toward the elder's office. The sooner he completely read the file and managed to get through to him, the sooner he could take over Taeyong's treatment. Doctor Jang opened the door to his temporary office, allowing the younger inside. Taeil waited as he looked through a drawer and removed a three or four-sheet thick stapled file. Once it was dropped into his grasp, he made his way to sit down.

"You can stay in here. I won't be too long, and then you can see him again. Okay?"

"Yeah... okay," Taeil replied, completely consumed by the sheet in front of him, even if he was only looking at the patient data.

All of a sudden, it all felt so _real_. He was there, in his senior's office, preparing to potentially take over Taeyong's care. It was all real. The patient had been through everything that Taeil was aware of. He'd never doubted anything, but having it written on paper in his grasp, the reality was more gripping. The door soon shut quietly and the younger psychiatrist was left to read.

Most of the information was just reiterated from what he already knew. But the date told him something more. _7th January 2015._ The file in Namhyeon was dated two years later when the building was abandoned due to the unstable roof. They even had Taeyong's introductory file. It was rather simple, but some information was new to the psychiatrist. In the beginning, they didn't have a _clue_ what they were doing.

Their immediate thought to slap a reason onto his behavior was that he was intellectually impaired—though worded in a not-so-modern way—which was evidently, to some extent, incorrect. The sheet of paper also documented that Taeyong had a family history of anemia and epilepsy, which Taeil didn't know, but it didn't surprise him. After all, even Seulgi had commented on how his mother was rather ill.

The last piece of information made Taeil furrow his eyebrows. Site file? He had no idea what that was for. Assuming that it was nothing important, he moved on. Perhaps he'd go back to it if he needed to. Turning to the next page, his eyes traveled to the label lining the top of the page: _"significant incidences"._

_Date: 12th January 2015._

_At 10:43 AM, the patient suffers a grand mal seizure while in the company of Doctor Park after electroconvulsive therapy. Lasts for roughly three minutes. He seems to resume the usual activity afterward, but at roughly 10:55 AM, the patient begins to act self-destructive, sustains a minor head injury, and attacks Doctor Park, stabbing him in the neck with a pen. The patient is consequently moved into a padded cell (2) until further notice._

Taeil had a look of disbelief-because he didn't understand _how_ the seizure seemed surprising to the psychiatrist, given the treatment method—and his eyes scanned down the page. The rest of the reports featured more attacks, declining health, and further seizures throughout his treatment. He was just glad that it didn't cause significant damage enough to leave Taeyong with permanent damage to the brain. Though, the more Taeil thought about it, the more he realized that it could have contributed to his declining health.

There was a gentle knock on the door before it was pushed open and Doctor Jang walked back in. "Are you done?"

"I don't read _that_ fast."

"I'll email you the scan so you can read it at your own pace. Just refrain from sharing the information in there, especially about Doctor Park—his children are still very aware that their father was murdered."

The paper was handed back to the elder and he placed it in the drawer. Remembering the odd code on the bottom of the paper, Taeil stood up. "By the way, do you know what the site file is for?"

"Site file?" asked Doctor Jang, uncertainty evident in his voice.

"You know something I don't, you're nervous."

"Fine," the elder sighed, "there are some videos."

"What kind of videos?"

Doctor Jang hesitated, sitting down behind his desk for a moment. "Some from when he was in the orphanage, and then there's a few from Namhyeon. Footage of his therapy, their attempt to get him to communicate, his general behavior. They're not particularly nice to watch."

"So, they were documenting his treatment?"

"Mostly."

"Well, what else is there? I _can_ take it, you know," said Taeil.

"When the team began to clear out Namhyeon and search for bodies, they managed to remove the door to Doctor Park's office. It was mostly filled with old files and reports, but there was a locked drawer."

The younger psychiatrist just _had_ to gulp, waiting as the elder paused. His instincts told him that what he was about to be told wasn't good.

"They managed to force it open. They broke a tape or two in the process, but there was one that they managed to salvage."

"What was on the tape?" asked Taeil, though he sounded as though he really didn't want to know.

"As you know, there was quite an uproar when he was found in the barn. It was all over the papers, you'd have been young at the time. Their treatments were to teach him to act 'normally'. They were trying to hand him off into care rather than keep him in Namhyeon. He _shouldn't_ have been in there, really. He was only fifteen when he was admitted. It's the same with some of the other patients you were caring for."

"You're treading carefully, Doctor Jang. _Please_ just tell me."

"Doctor Park shouldn't have been his psychiatrist. He'd only worked with adults, and as you know, he had been arrested for domestic violence before. It was obvious that those videos weren't intended to be found, I believe he acted alone. Old staff members have since been questioned and admitted that Doctor Park was secretive with Taeyong's treatment."

Taeil was holding back an urge to shout and tell the elder just to spill the information. He abhorred waiting when he _knew_ it was going to be horrible. He'd rather get it over and done with.

"Obviously, electroconvulsive therapy wouldn't work, but they still did it. That was all that he was legally allowed to do. But Doctor Park wanted to get rid of Taeyong, he wasn't responding to treatment, so he took matters into his own hands," Doctor Jang sighed, "there's video footage of him trying to scare him into compliance, giving him sedatives off-schedule and—"

"That's enough," Taeil muttered, his gaze drifting away from the other psychiatrist, "I think I know what you're going to say."

"We don't have access to that video, naturally, but the other ones are on a pen drive that I have. Do you want them?"

He wasn't _really_ paying that much attention, trapped in his thoughts. He nodded gently, and upon hearing a drawer open, he looked up. Doctor Jang handed him a black pen drive.

"You can keep ahold of this. I'm sure the supervisor will agree to the transfer. It's just a bit of background. But do be aware that some of the orphanage videos are from when he was as young as ten years old, so they're quite depressing."

"I'll watch them later," Taeil replied, slipping it into his pocket.

"Now, I suppose you'd like to begin with Taeyong?"

The younger nodded, prompting Doctor Jang to proceed toward the door. Once the office door was locked, Taeil fixed his doctor's coat as they wandered down the hallway. They quickly reached the room and Taeil peeked inside to see that Taeyong had abandoned the eye patch and was merely sat on the ground, legs tucked up to his chest as his gaze never faltered from the wall. He hadn't touched his food. It remained on the desk, untainted and likely cold. The psychiatrist sighed as the door was unlocked for him.

"Take your time. I'll leave the keys with you so you can leave whenever you'd like."

He nodded. "Alright. Thank you."

"You're saving me a lot of trouble, there's no need to thank me."

Taeil stepped inside as Taeyong's gaze lifted momentarily. He soon looked away, confirming that his visitor was familiar to him. The psychiatrist sat down on the ground in front of him.

"Are you not hungry?" he asked.

The younger shook his head, his grip tightening around his legs.

"Do you miss Mark?"

"That should be obvious."

"You're right," Taeil hummed, "I'm sure he misses you too. He's staying with me for now."

"Can I ask you a question? Will you answer honestly?"

"Of course I will."

"Am I really going to be treated?"

The psychiatrist raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't you?"

"Aren't there people who need it more than me? I can't live like everybody else anyway, I'll just die in here."

"You're not going to die in here, Taeyong. You _can_ live like everybody else. You just don't see the light at the end of the tunnel."

"But even if I'm treated, I'll still be the killer that everybody hates."

Taeil didn't know what had overcome him, a lump forming in the back of his throat. He looked down at the ground in an attempt to hide the tears welling in his eyes. Taeyong wouldn't be able to tell his overwhelm, he knew that. So he didn't want to just run out of the room. He lifted his hand to wipe the tears before they could escape from his eyes.

He looked up for a moment, and upon seeing the patient's innocent face, he broke down. Taeyong furrowed his eyebrows, letting go of his legs before Taeil suddenly leaned forward and wrapped his arms around him. He felt the younger place his arms on his back and tap him gently.

"I'm _so_ sorry! You don't deserve any of this, Taeyong. You should be out there in the world living a happy life. You shouldn't be in here, considered a hazard to society. You shouldn't be sick. You shouldn't have been treat like some kind of animal."

Taeyong was perplexed, but he relaxed, hugging the psychiatrist back. "It's not your fault."

"But it shouldn't have happened! None of it!"

The younger's grip loosened and he shuffled back. Taeil was taken aback and wiped his face down, observing as Taeyong frowned. Usually, the psychiatrist could prevent himself from actually being emotional with a patient, but Taeyong was different.

"I'm saying this as a person, rather than as a psychiatrist. You're strong. Not many people would hold onto life through all of that. You may _feel_ hopeless, or like there's nothing for you in this life, but I can promise you that your life isn't over because of what is happening to your body. I can understand that it's scary, Taeyong, but you'll get through it with the right people by your side."

"Is something wrong?" asked the patient.

Taeil placed his hand on the younger's shoulder, stroking it gently with his thumb. "I know what Doctor Park was doing to you."

"I—" he began, but visibly tensed.

"We're going to have to discuss it at some point. I won't bring it up unless you're ready."

Taeyong gently nodded.

"But, for now, do you want to tell me what your nightmares have been about?" asked Taeil, shuffling back to give the patient space.

"Mostly about my father," he replied hesitantly, "I see him hurting us."

"As in... you and your mother?"

"But sometimes Mark is there too."

"How so?" asked Taeil, "What does he do?"

Taeyong gripped onto his arm, taking in a shaky breath. "He gets hurt protecting me."

"Does he ever succeed?"

"I always wake up. I-I don't know."

Taeil looked down at the ground. He knew that talking to Taeyong would really test him, but was hoping no more tears would escape. It tore him apart to think that the memories had changed him so much. They completely broke him.

"What about your mother? Does she do anything?"

"She comforts me. She tells me everything will be okay if I hide."

"Is that what she told you in real life, too?"

"Hide and keep the dogs' company because they get lonely."

Taeil nodded. "You don't need to answer this question if you don't want to, but it'll give me a better understanding of everything you've been through. What about _before_ you lived in the barn? How did your father act towards you?"

"He locked me in my room a lot. He didn't talk to me and tried to stop momma from talking to me, too. I could only talk when asked a question, and if I spoke when I wasn't supposed he'd hit me," Taeyong explained, frowning, "but I was sick for a while and stopped talking completely."

"Can you remember anything about why you were sick?"

"Not really, I just remember that momma said I was getting thinner and one day I had a fever."

"Do you know how old you were then?"

Taeyong shook his head, but it didn't surprise Taeil. "I know that it wasn't long before I started living outside."

"So... about seven? According to the files, that's when your father told the police during questioning."

"Probably."

" _Why_ did he kick you out?"

To that, the patient hesitated, looking down at his arms. "I overheard something the night that Seulgi was with us. Before papa put her into bed, he was talking with momma outside."

"What did they say?"

"Papa wanted to get rid of me. He told momma that nobody would know if I was gone, and since I was sick, it wouldn't be surprising. But momma didn't want to. Papa suggested running away with Seulgi to be a real family."

"You told them you knew?"

"Momma came into my room after and hugged me. I think I cried, told her and papa figured it out. I tried to run away from him when he walked over to me. But he grabbed me and started threatening me. H-He—"

"Slow down," said Taeil, reaching over to move the patient's hand from clawing at his arm.

Taeyong wiped a tear away from his face. "He was calling me things. Because I was scared, I hit him back."

Hearing the younger stammering, the psychiatrist exhaled, covering his mouth as he listened. He was in disbelief.

"He pushed me over and I hit my head, but momma tried to stop him from hurting me and got hit too. He said he'd k-kill me and that nobody wanted me. It was just a mistake. He just kept hitting me, he wouldn't stop—"

"That's enough," said Taeil, pulling him into a hug.

He felt Taeyong's tears soak through his work coat, but he didn't care. He was horrified and overwhelmed. He'd heard some awful things, but that topped _anything_ he'd ever had to even think about helping a patient with.

"The fact that you've told me shows your strength," said the elder quietly, rubbing his back to soothe him, "but I think this is the most you've ever let me hug you."

A laugh slipped through Taeyong's sorrow. As Taeil hugged him, he picked up the patient's arm—the one which was victimized by the younger digging his nails into his skin—checking it over quickly. He let out a sigh as he looked at his thin, shivering arm.

"You need to stop doing that," said the psychiatrist, taking his other arm from around Taeyong and moving away so he could look at him properly, "you're going to leave scars."

"I don't realize—"

"No, no. I get that. But we'll have to think of an alternate thing for you to try and do. But for now, Taeyong, you might get a little confused so I need to explain this to you. I'm not your psychiatrist."

The patient furrowed his eyebrows. "Why not?"

"Personal involvement and all. But I'm trying to get you handed over to me, so don't worry. You know Doctor Jang. He's the one who suggested the transfer."

"Is he safe..?"

"He is, you can trust him," Taeil nodded.

Nonetheless, Taeyong frowned. He'd never been the most trusting person around.

"I have to prove that I'll help you, so I will be here to talk to you. If you need me—no matter when—ask a nurse _politely_ and they'll contact me."

"Are you leaving already?"

"I have some things to do. Will you eat at lunch? _Please?_ If you get sick, they'll move you into another building, and it's not very nice."

Frowning, Taeyong nodded. "I guess."

Taeil just needed to convince Doctor Hak—and probably the board which dealt with such issues—that he could leave the past as the past and treat Taeyong like a patient. But even he doubted himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter made me sad :(
> 
> Do you think Taeil will be given the green light to be Taeyong's psychiatrist?


	7. Community Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeil continues to look into Taeyong's past, while Mark begins his community service. Doyoung takes some time to catch up with Mark and talk about the past.

Taeil's eyes were flickering shut as he read the rest of Taeyong's file. He'd printed it for ease of viewing—to save his eyes as he sat in limited lighting—and sat on the couch. Mark wasn't in the room, and even if he was, he'd hardly be paying attention. Since he didn't need to hide, he began to use his phone again. The psychiatrist was amazed it still worked, even if it was slightly outdated.

The information in the file was rather repetitive. Taeyong would do his therapy, injure himself, and rampage at Doctor Park or whoever was the nearest to him. He'd made three nurses quit. He refused to take medication, would have to be held down and _forced_ to take it. It seemed like he was in a padded cell almost every other week. He wasn't allowed to communicate with other patients and was left in his room. The entire time he was reading, Taeil was sighing in frustration. Through sickness, violence, and eventual assault, they didn't see the problem with his treatment.

No. It was more like they didn't care enough to make the changes.

Taeil was dreading watching the video footage, but he knew he had to. He made himself a coffee to force himself awake and grabbed the pen drive, slotting it into his laptop. He opened the file. Relieved to find them labeled, he took a sip of his drink—burning himself in the process—and clicked on the first video. It was from the orphanage in 2009; Taeyong was ten years old. The psychiatrist held his breath, nervous. He didn't know why he was having such an emotional day. It took him a while to acknowledge that the small boy who sat on the end of the bed was indeed Taeyong.

He was sat so still that Taeil had to check whether the video was paused. After confirming that it wasn't, he looked into the back corner. The video was from midnight. It seemed as though they had a camera fitted in the room to monitor him, he did understand why, though. Taeyong was probably unpredictable back then. However, from what the psychiatrist had read, from various sources, he _wasn't_ violent toward the orphanage staff in the first few years. He was more scared than anything.

Soon, the young boy stood up. He walked over to the door to the room, limping, as Taeil noted, and began to pull on the handle. It was in vain—the door was locked. He pulled it some more, trying to look through the gap. He shrunk onto the ground in defeat. Sat in a crouch, he began to preoccupy himself by pulling at his sleeve. Sighing, Taeil had another drink of his coffee. There was a sudden change in lighting on the footage and he quickly placed his cup back on the table. The door opened, and Taeyong immediately scrambled away from where he was, hopping onto the bed using all four limbs, which made Taeil furrow his eyebrows. He must have grown out of traveling like that.

It was a woman who walked in. A staff member, the psychiatrist assumed. She seemed rather young. She slowly edged over to the bed, crouching down as close to his level as she could, and Taeil guessed that she was talking to him. The young boy refused to look at her. His gaze was fixed on the wall beside him. Because of the camera angle, he couldn't actually see the woman's face, but he had enough faith in the orphanage staff to _not_ be the type to shout at a terrified young boy who'd heard his own mother's murder and was abused by his father. The boy soon adopted a position that was all so familiar to Taeil. He pulled his legs up to his chest and began to gently rock, which seemed to alarm the woman, and she stepped back.

She turned around and after a moment, another, older woman walked in. The latter actually got onto the bed, maneuvering carefully around Taeyong. She slipped one hand behind his head and another gently on his arm. If the quality was any better, Taeil wondered if he would be able to read the woman's lips. She said something to the younger woman, who moved over to the door, soon disappearing beyond it. By then, the boy was visibly hyperventilating. The woman continued to talk to him, trying to calm him down. Taeil began to hold his breath again, quickly pausing the video. He needed some fresh air.

As he opened the window, the psychiatrist wondered what the orphanage staff would be doing all those years later. If their identities were noted anywhere—which he guessed they would be—then he'd have the chance to contact them. The more he knew, the easier his job would be. Taeil sighed, looking out of the window.

"What's this?"

_Mark._

"When did you come through?" asked Taeil, taken aback.

"Just then," he replied, "what are you watching?"

Closing the window with a thud, the psychiatrist hurried over to his laptop. He shut it, turning to look at the younger with a serious expression. "It's for work."

"And this," said Mark, pointing at Taeyong's file, "I _can_ read, you know. Is that Taeyong in the video?"

"You can't see it. It's confidential."

"I asked a question, I didn't say anything about seeing the video."

Taeil sighed. "Yes, it's Taeyong. Happy?"

"Who's the woman in the video? His mother?"

"No, she's a staff member in the orphanage he was put in—" the elder paused, "you already know too much, can you leave?"

"Who am I going to tell? I won't even _think_ about telling anybody. Plus, I'm technically Taeyong's family since we're dating," said Mark.

"It's nothing interesting. It's actually depressing if anything."

"I can take anything. I've had to watch him in plenty of horrible states these last three years."

"No, Mark," Taeil responded, sternly, "I signed a confidentiality agreement when I was employed, I can't break that, not even to family."

"But who will find—"

" _No._ I mean it."

The younger sighed bitterly. "Alright, fine."

"You should sleep, you have community service in the morning."

"Who are you? My mother?"

"More like a probation officer. Now, I have work to do."

Mark turned around, shaking his head as he walked away. He slipped into the other room and Taeil sighed in relief. He sat back on the couch, had a drink, and opened his laptop. Rather than continuing to watch the same clip, he returned to the list of files and scanned through it. There were fourteen videos in total. Four of which were from the orphanage. He looked through the titles: _"managing trauma",_ _"teaching attempts", "violent responses"_ and _"introduction"._ Aside from the peculiar order, the titles made him raise an eyebrow. They almost sounded like the videos belonged to some textbook archive or something along that line. But surely that wasn't the case.

The videos from Namhyeon were labeled with dates rather than anything notable. But the final video caught Taeil's eye. _"October 23rd, 2017"._ Three days before the closure. Three days before Doctor Park was supposed to kill Taeyong. Six days until their fates were reversed. Not thinking of much else, he clicked on the video. The quality was far better—but it _was_ eight years later—and the patient looked recognizable. He was eighteen years old. Yet again, there was a mounted camera, but it made slightly more sense. Taeyong was in the padded cell. Taeil felt a shiver take over his body.

The patient's eyes were hardly open as he sat upright, dressed in the straitjacket which he'd later kill Doctor Park in. The psychiatrist could tell almost immediately that his calm behavior was due to sedatives. Whether they were given to him by the book, as was written, was beyond Taeil's knowledge, and there certainly wasn't any information in the video. He just hoped it wasn't the aftermath of Taeyong being assaulted by his psychiatrist. The patient's body soon fell back against the wall, his eyes closed completely. The video footage was once again silent, so the psychiatrist was left to ponder what exactly was going on as he watched Taeyong's lips part and join repeatedly.

Paying closer attention, Taeil furrowed his eyebrows. He mimicked the patient, trying to decipher what he was saying. His mind clicked; Taeyong was counting. As the psychiatrist had a drink, the younger began to hit his head on the wall, but upon realizing it wasn't doing anything at all, he pushed himself over and fell onto his side. It didn't take long for Taeil to become thankful that there wasn't actually any sound. Taeyong seemed to be literally _screaming_ , rolling on the ground. Like in the last video, the door opened.

Taeil expected Doctor Park to enter. But instead, two men walked in, who he soon realized were actually the security for when people were _really_ acting up. Soon, a middle-aged man in a doctor's coat walked in, and the psychiatrist immediately scowled. Doctor Park. Taeyong must have stopped shouting as the two security men grabbed him by each arm, pulling him up to his feet. But they weren't going to take him quietly. He was kicking at them, trying to break free. That was the Taeyong that he once knew.

The psychiatrist was taken aback as the video cut but switched to another room. His eyes instantly widened. He could recognize that machine from anywhere, and he was sure Taeyong would too. He must have been forced into the bed—now out of his straitjacket and instead restrained to the bed—by the security men, but they were nowhere in sight. The patient wasn't under anesthetic, which, in modern practice, he would have been. He was wide awake, fighting against the restraints keeping him in place.

Taeil looked away as Doctor Park pressed a button. He only looked back to press away from the video. He closed his eyes and sighed, placing his head in his hands. He had a feeling that the psychiatrist was going to haunt his dreams that night, but he'd had enough. He couldn't watch anything else. He knew he'd have to watch the videos properly eventually, but he didn't want to make his day worse than it already was.

* * *

Mark wasn't enjoying the surprisingly bright Autumn sun at ten-thirty in the morning. Taeil had forced him out of the car—literally—to begin his first day of community service. He hadn't gotten a job to pay back the fines, as he hadn't even _begun_ looking for one. He thought community service would be a walk in the park, but as a contraption that he immediately recognized as a litter-picker was held in his direction, he closed his eyes, sighing in frustration. It felt like he was back in high school.

"I'm sure you don't need a tutorial on how to use one of those, right? Get a bag and get picking. If you're feeling brave, use your hands."

Mark scowled, pulling the metal into his grasp. Somehow, a thought slipped into his mind about how the large tong-like contraption would be far more effective at beating the community service officer over the back of the head—

But since he'd narrowly escaped prison time, he assumed that wouldn't be the best move.

He pulled a bag out of a bucket, and very unenthusiastically, he began to pick up rubbish. Several times, he'd miss the bag and end up going on a chase, following around a small wrapper as passersby gave him funny looks. The officer was preoccupied with his phone as Mark slaved away. He didn't understand why there was so much discard just pushed away at the corner of the street. Just abandoned, left to rot. The space was probably ridden by rodents when there wasn't somebody poking around through the litter.

Being down an alleyway, Mark found that time was going exceptionally slowly. As a result, he was beginning to lose his patience early. He thought community service was usually a group thing. Either he was special, or he was wrong. But he didn't particularly care which it was. He made an effort to show his distaste, aggressively stuffing things into the bag. For a moment, when he looked toward the officer, he saw a car drive past slowly, and Mark was almost certain it was the detectives. He sneered. They were treating him like some sort of hazard.

Through his irritated and hazed mind, he never noticed Namhyeon peeking through the gap on the other side of the alleyway, being assisted by scaffolding that surrounded the building. Or, not for a while, anyway. But when he turned and saw the familiar structure, he dropped all activities to just stare at it. It was obvious the building was probably close to being demolished. Oddly, it made Mark feel kind of sad.

Everything that happened—the good and the bad—in that building would be left to nothing but a memory. In some cases, he revered that. Some things that had happened were best left in the past, like the violence, murders, and fighting. But connections blossomed in a place renowned for being a place of gloom. To everybody else, it was a waste of space and an eyesore. But to a few, it was home. Even Mark felt that way.

He heard somebody clear their throat, and turned to see the community service officer looking at him with his arms crossed. "You're here to work, not daydream."

The Mark that existed three years earlier would bow and apologize. Perhaps he'd work even harder from thereon. But the Mark that stood in the present day wasn't like that. He dropped the litter-picker onto the floor with a metallic thud and walked away. He had nothing to apologize or repay for. All he did was for survival.

* * *

"How are you doing?" asked Taeil as the door closed gently.

Donghyuck sat down on the couch, gripping onto his knees as he sat up. "Alright, I suppose."

"Did you look over the medication options and decide which one to change to? I heard your mother visited, did you bring it up to her?"

"I did, she just told me to let you decide. 'You know better'."

"That may be so," said the psychiatrist, "but I can't just decide for you, this is _your_ treatment."

"But, can't you just say I chose?"

Taeil sighed, shaking his head. "I don't want you to put your life in my hands, that's not a mutual partnership, is it? You can decide with my help—of course—but you need to make the call for this one."

"I'll just nod along," said Donghyuck.

"You're aware that medication has side effects, so why would you let me dictate what hell you have to go through? I could just pick the worst, but cheapest for you."

"But I know you won't. You're not like that."

That was somewhat relieving to Taeil. "My point is, don't rely on your psychiatrist to decide what is right for you. I'll help you, but I'm not deciding _for_ you."

"Alright, fine."

"So," Taeil flipped through his file and removed the sheet which he'd given a copy of to Donghyuck. "Have you at least decided to stay on a specific type? Do you want to continue using SSRIs?"

"That's probably better, so the change won't be too different, I suppose."

"You're currently on a reduced dose of sertraline. That should be maintained for another week or two, to be safe. Before I get into the medications, have you got any concerns, or have you had any physical struggles recently? Your blood test results are back and they're all clear, but just to be safe."

"Just the usual headaches, but the ward is loud when everybody is out for lunch and we're allowed to get some exercise," Donghyuck replied.

"Is that the only time? I do know you've reported headaches consistently, so that isn't too worrying. Have they gotten any worse recently?"

"No, they're just the same. It's only during free time."

"Alright, that sounds rather normal then. Anything else? Any pain or discomfort?"

Donghyuck shook his head. "That's all."

"Well, we can keep that in mind. Now—medication. Let's look at all possible options and weigh up which one is better, okay?"

* * *

"I can't believe you're here, at my door, when you're supposed to be doing community service. What happened?" asked Doyoung, "You look horrible."

"I'm not doing it."

"I don't think you can just _not_ do it, it's kind of a legal bind now. You signed the paper."

Mark sighed, his fists clenched by his side. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"You _stole_ for three years."

"I was doing what I had to in order to survive and keep Taeyong as healthy as I could, you should understand that!"

"You could have gotten help—"

"No!" Mark exclaimed, "I can't trust anybody with him."

"You trusted Taeil."

"Because I thought I could. He's the reason I managed to get so close to Taeyong. We wouldn't be together today if it wasn't—"

"Wait," said Doyoung, "together?"

"That's what I said, yes."

"As in, dating?"

"Old news, Doyoung. We've been together for over three years."

The elder looked alarmed and pulled Mark into the apartment, closing the door behind him. "You've been dating since you were seventeen."

"I just said that."

"Taeyong was twenty-one."

"I'm glad you have a good memory."

"You're missing the point," Doyoung groaned, "that's... potentially illegal."

"You're telling me you didn't think about dating Jaehyun until you turned twenty?"

"That's exactly what I'm implying—" he paused, "How did you know we're dating?"

Mark sighed. "I might have _only_ talked to Taeyong for three years, but I haven't lost my brain. That's how I also found your apartment. Taeil writes everything down."

"He wrote down that we're—"

"No, he wrote the date. Probably for your anniversary of dating or whatever. Plus, he did look after Jaehyun, he's the type of guy who cares about this kind of thing."

"Stop shifting the topic over to me," said Doyoung, "you didn't break the law with him, did you?"

"You're acting like a child who doesn't like the word. If you put it like that, then yes."

"But we had that talk about not going too quickly with him. You know, because he's... how he is."

"'How he is'?" Mark sneered, "He's not an alien, he has a decent understanding of when something is wrong."

"But you slept with somebody who has been abused, my concern is that for one, it was illegal, and two, was that somehow traumatizing to him in the past?"

"He's never mentioned it."

"Because it's not an easy topic, Mark. You can't pull the 'he hasn't told me' card with this. This is serious."

"Alright! There was _one_ time when he freaked out. But I apologized, left him to calm down, and was more careful afterward."

Doyoung sighed, burying his face in his hands. "Did you even think about what that means?"

"Well, he's not the biggest fan of having s—"

"Mark. I'm _still_ being serious."

"I asked him why he reacted like that, but he didn't want to talk about it. I just assumed he wasn't up for it. That's been the case before and believe me, he _does_ make that clear."

"As long as you were never pushy with him, that's better. But it was still illegal."

"Who do you think I am? I would never be pushy with anyone, let alone him!"

"Alright, sorry. I'm just worried," said Doyoung, "it wasn't my intention to suggest that you would."

"I get it."

"Now, do you want to explain _why_ you're refusing to do your community service? Surely something happened, or you wouldn't have left. Taeil told me you went this morning."

They both moved over to the couch, and the younger friend sighed. "The guy who was with me was an asshole. But I'm sure community service is usually done in a group, but I was alone."

"Maybe they think you're dangerous," Doyoung joked.

"I'm not dangerous!"

"You have the temper of a lion."

"And even the detectives keep checking on me like I'm some kind of threat."

"It might be their protocol, Mark," said the elder, "plus, you have been off the radar for three years, it's to help you adapt—"

"I'm the same person I was three years ago!"

Doyoung sighed. "You've become more agitated."

"That's because they've taken Taeyong away from me and are forcing me to repay them for _surviving._ "

"Look, I can understand your frustration, but because you're alive, they have to punish you, otherwise everybody would use the excuse that it was for survival."

"The difference is, we're serious. I could have stolen more, but instead, Taeyong's health was a little unstable. It's not as if we were some poor people living in a house they could barely afford. We were technically homeless."

"But as far as they're concerned, Taeyong ran away—so did you. You didn't _have_ to become homeless."

"Somebody tried to kill Taeyong. Why would we have just risked it happening again?"

"Well, it's fine now. He's getting treatment. But I don't know if you realize, but he probably doesn't have health insurance. That means he'll have to pay more. Where will he get the money?"

Mark fell silent. Of course, they'll try to extort money from him. "I'll pay for _that,_ but I'm not paying the people who are trying to make our lives harder than they already are."

"I believe Taeil is currently paying."

"He didn't tell me that," said the younger through gritted teeth.

"Are you seriously refusing his help? Can I remind you that you're twenty, you didn't graduate high school and you have an assault on your record for the last day you were in school?"

"He deserved it."

"But you should have at least done it _away_ from a crowd. I had to ignore people calling you psychotic for several months, and even argued with somebody who said something incredibly inappropriate about you and Taeyong."

"You didn't need to defend me. I wasn't there to hear it."

Doyoung shook his head. "Everybody would have started calling you a masochist."

"I don't even want to know what was said," Mark groaned.

"It wasn't nice. It sounded more like something Yuta would do rather than Taeyong."

"I don't want to know!"

Doyoung chuckled. "I missed you, you know. So did Jungwoo. Lucas felt horrible when you left, he thought it was his fault."

"Well, I haven't really been thinking the nicest things about Lucas," Mark replied.

"I know he was a bit of an asshole. Believe me, even _I_ told him that. Jaehyun punched him because I was shouting and he got worked up."

"Where is he anyway?"

"Jaehyun? He's out. Whether he's actually doing what he's supposed to or he's getting drunk somewhere, I'm not sure."

"He drinks?"

"He never stops!" Doyoung groaned, "I suppose it makes sense. He's dealing with a personality disorder and won't accept that his parents don't care about him. Most of the time, I can't even convince him to sleep in the bedroom. He's trying to stop, though."

"What about you? Are you in university?" asked Mark.

"That I am. I'm putting my intelligence to good use. I didn't want to follow the crowd, so I'm going to get into research instead. Maybe I can produce a three-hundred-page-long analysis of your boyfriend's behavior."

"I should have guessed. You always seemed curious about _why_ Taeyong acts like he does, rather than helping the issue."

"Exactly!" the elder exclaimed, "Maybe he can help me make a revolutionary discovery about behavior."

"I wouldn't count on it," Mark replied, "maybe three years ago, but now he's struggling and I won't let you put any pressure on him."

Doyoung frowned. "Alright. I don't want to face your wrath, I'll find somebody else."

It was more of a case of "I don't want to lose a friend"—since he thought the younger would probably just drop him—but he'd never say that out loud. He just kept it inside, hoping that he and Mark remained friends, no matter what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any criticisms of the story so far? I'd like to know so I can improve. Don't worry about offending me, I can take it!


	8. Evaluation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeil is faced with an untimely situation and reality. The other staff are trying to rush the assessment period for Taeyong, but the patient is in a fragile state. Nonetheless, they're pushed to proceed.

Taeil never expected the first thing he'd be faced with when he walked into work would be Doctor Jang and the supervisor, Doctor Hak. The former looked as unamused as he always did in the others' presence. He immediately felt dread. The supervisor never held good news. 

"Taeyong will be evaluated today," said Doctor Hak.

Talk about giving short notice. Taeil wasn't prepared in any way—and he was sure the patient wasn't either. It hadn't been long since he let his guard down around the psychiatrist, finally giving him some insight into what he experienced in Namhyeon. He didn't need yet another setback, nor did the patient need any more stress.

"This sudden?"

"That's what I said," said Doctor Jang, "but apparently it's been prioritized."

"We need to be certain of what we're dealing with. This will also help as to whether Doctor Moon can take over his care."

"But, wait," said Taeil, "he can't be alone with somebody unfamiliar, he's recently managed to tell me about the abuse from his father, he's in a volatile state."

Doctor Hak sighed. "It's only viable when the patient is alone with the evaluator. You can—and given his past—he _will_ be distracted by you."

"But if I'm not there, he might be overwhelmed. If there's anything I've learned, it's that he's vulnerable. He's not a hazard, he's not dangerous. He's scared."

"The same requirements apply to all patients."

"Actually," said Doctor Jang, "there _are_ times when the rules are relaxed, and I believe Taeyong is within those guidelines."

"You're not helping."

"Doctor Hak, with all due respect, he isn't in the state to be under evaluation. In addition to that, he still needs to be visited by a neurologist and his test results have yet to return. He's unfit for evaluating until he's physically cleared."

"We need him to be moved from the room he's in. He isn't the only patient in this establishment. Plus, I think you'll agree we should minimize moving him from room to room. We wouldn't want him to get too stressed out, would we?"

"For God's sake, he isn't a child. He won't be stressed by moving into another room. He's more of a wanderer than any other patient here," said Doctor Jang.

He himself seemed taken aback by his sudden argument. Doctor Hak crossed his arms, clearly annoyed, and let out a sigh. "You're right, he isn't a child. But we all know he's different up in that head of his. ASPD? Don't make me laugh. He's an over-reactive, underdeveloped adult who can't look after himself and was taken advantage of."

By then, Taeil's clenched fist was shaking. He'd never wanted to punch somebody so badly in his life. Before he could, Doctor Jang stepped in.

"That's inappropriate for a professional environment. You're being discriminative and offensive. Either allow Doctor Moon to observe the evaluation or reschedule it."

"Doctor—"

"Come on, we have a patient to see to."

Being dragged away, Taeil looked back at the supervisor who was hysterical. The psychiatrist gawked. Of course, Doctor Jang would get away with saying such a thing. The elder's hand was soon removed from his arm as they stood down the hall from Taeyong's room.

"I could see the steam coming out of your ears. I just saved you from losing your job."

"Thank you, honestly. I was ready to hit him."

"Well," said Doctor Jang, "you've earned an enemy, but you still have your job."

"I suppose that's good," Taeil sighed.

"Though, I think I can see where he's coming from. I don't think Taeyong has Antisocial Personality Disorder. That was probably the closest explanation they could find. He learned violence as a response from a young age, so he used it. It only became an issue when he turned fifteen. Before that, he probably didn't want to risk it. But as for the supervisor suggesting he's disabled, I also don't think that's the case."

"It's ridiculous that it's 2023 and we have to argue about what causes Taeyong's behavior. I can understand that they treated him like he was impaired in the orphanage, but when he finally moved into Namhyeon, a professional psychiatrist dropped a disorder onto him which he hardly resonates with."

The elder nodded, it was all one mess that could have been prevented. "I think he needs an updated psychological assessment. I'll leave that to you, but I doubt he's got ASPD. Not to mention a diagnosis shouldn't have been given until he turned eighteen—which was when the institution closed, so it wasn't accurate anyway."

"I'll arrange that, then. But we have a current issue."

"Right, the evaluation."

"I have an idea. Let's be honest, Doctor Hak isn't going to reschedule, the evaluator will be here already," Taeil replied, "I'll stay with Taeyong until we have an update."

Doctor Jang nodded, handing the younger the key. "I'll be anticipating your uprising."

He walked towards the room as the elder walked in the opposite direction. He needed to at least warn Taeyong beforehand, if he was going to be threatened, which he didn't doubt. He looked through the window to see the patient lying on the ground, curled as far as he could on his side. Through the door's sound grid, he could hear him murmuring. He knew he was counting. That was one thing he seemed to do throughout his life consistently. Repetition had a calming factor, he could understand why the patient had an obsession with counting over and over again.

When Taeil stepped into the room, Taeyong looked over his shoulder to see who it was. The door was closed and the psychiatrist did a double-take looking at him. There was blood on his sleeve. Not just a drop or two, enough to soak a patch of the fabric. "What have you done?"

He immediately regretted raising his voice even slightly as Taeyong flinched, but quickly returned to normal. He avoided the elder's gaze as his life depended on it. Taeil knelt beside the patient, pulling up his arm to check the damage. His eyes softened as he saw that he'd been scratching at his arm more and that there was a wound, two or three inches long, on his arm. Taeyong pulled his arm away, hiding it beside his body.

"Taeyong—"

"Don't. I don't need to hear it. It's bad, I get it."

"You can't do this to yourself," said Taeil, "I have to report you as being a risk to your own safety if you harm yourself."

"It won't happen again."

The elder sighed. "No, Taeyong. It _will._ I know how the process goes. Whether you consciously do this or not, we have to stop it from happening."

"No jacket!" he exclaimed frantically, "Please, I'll do anything!"

"Calm down, I'm not going to put you in a straitjacket for that, I know you don't like them. But you might be undergoing an evaluation today, so I can't let you just sit here covered in blood. I'm taking you to first aid."

"Evaluation? For what?"

"Deciding which ward to place you on. It'll decide your freedom," Taeil replied, "come on, you _can't_ leave my side, hold my arm."

Taeyong hesitantly stood up, grabbing onto the elder's arm. He'd been left without a crutch—because they believed he'd use it as a weapon—so he had to rely on his shaky legs to get him places. Taeil opened the door and secured his grip on the patient, but the second they stepped out, judgemental eyes were on them. Another patient looked down the hall from behind his door. He snickered at the frail patient, but the nurse communicating with him tried to avert his attention. Taeyong merely looked down, disheartened. He knew nobody particularly liked him.

"Look who it is," said the patient, tapping on his door, "you're famous around here."

Taeil wanted to ignore him, he knew the patient was more likely to learn to be calmer if others were around him. Taeyong hardly lifted his gaze, too busy trying to carefully place his feet down on the ground _without_ stumbling over, but let out a sigh.

"Don't react, you'll give him the satisfaction of making you worked up," the psychiatrist whispered, "look at that door over there, with the green sign, that's where we're going."

But the other patient wasn't finished. No, he just had to try and pull his strings even more. "You're being a good boy? Is Doc going to give you a treat?"

"That's enough," Taeil warned.

"Shouldn't you have him on a leash? Nice and close, so you can kick the shit out of him if he misbehaves."

"I mean it. Don't speak another word, or you'll have to be punished by the board."

"I'm sorry," the nurse bowed.

"It's not your fault. You're doing a good job," said the psychiatrist.

He looked back at Taeyong, who was sheepishly looking at the ground. He nudged him and they continued walking over to the first aid room. Taeil knocked on the door when they reached it, and soon after, a man stepped out. The patient felt his body immediately freeze, reaching down for his sleeve—substitute to his arm—and tugged at it gently. Even if he probably wasn't in any danger, his heart was beating uncontrollably with the urge to run. There was a haunting familiarity. White doctor's coat, a man in his middle ages. Even his height, the stubble on his chin, and a judging gaze that was fixed on him. He felt defenseless. His attention drifted, and he felt himself becoming numb.

"I've got a patient with a wound on his arm. Do you have time to clean and cover it? He'll also need a clean set of clothes, but I can get that if necessary."

"Sure, come right in."

Taeil stepped forward, expecting Taeyong to step with him, but he simply stood where he was, unmoving and staring wide-eyed at the ground. The psychiatrist immediately looked at the man in first aid and mentally cursed. "Taeyong, it's alright. You're safe."

He managed to step into the room, beginning to tremble more as the moments passed. But as the door closed, Taeyong was met by a growing urge to throw up, his body feeling clammy. His legs felt weak. It was mere moments until he lowered himself onto the ground, feeling as though he had nowhere to escape to. He slipped out of the psychiatrist's grasp and onto his knees, holding himself up, expecting the last meal he'd forced himself to eat to come back up.

"Are you alright? Do you need a moment?"

"I-I can't..."

"What? What is it?" asked Taeil, his hand resting on the patient's back.

"I can't breathe properly," Taeyong replied, his eyes shut tightly.

The psychiatrist prompted him to sit up properly. "You're okay, it's just a feeling. You're breathing fine."

"I'm scared..."

"Look at me," said the elder. "Remember what I taught you? Breathe in, hold, and breathe out. Can you do that for me?"

Taeyong nodded gently, gripping onto the cloth of his sleeve. Taeil promptly moved away from him to let him help himself. He watched carefully. Whenever the patient looked at him, he smiled, showing him that he was doing well. It was a slow process, but all that mattered was that he could do it on his own. But he had a new concern. It was no secret that the return of Taeyong's in-depth, traumatic memories was wreaking havoc in his emotional state. But as the psychiatrist pondered, he thought back to his earlier conversation with Doctor Jang. It seemed to make sense.

When the patient managed to calm down, they were faced with another challenge. Actually getting his wound cleaned by somebody who _clearly_ triggered a memory. He couldn't go to another floor. He had to get cleaned up before the evaluator arrived. Taeil helped him onto the chair opposite the man and stood aside.

"On his arm?"

The psychiatrist hummed. "Show him, Taeyong."

He lifted his arm and placed it down on the table, his eyes fixed on the man in front of him. The other seemed to notice, but it wasn't as though none of the other patients were wary in his presence. He was an unfamiliar face. But most patients were more agitated than scared, and it left him in a wondrous state. But he knew he couldn't ask questions. He looked at the wound, gently holding Taeyong's arm. He drew a sharp breath. 

"You did this yourself?" he asked, "That's not good."

The man stood up, immediately making the patient's head jerk in his direction as his eyes followed him. He took out some packages from a tray, finally grabbing a small bag of cloth.

"I'll clean it, put a dressing on it and I have something to try. Does he have any issues with a sensory disorder?"

"Not that we're aware of."

"So arm wraps will be alright?" he asked, "It's not the strongest barrier, but it prevents subconscious attempts. If this doesn't work, I'm afraid we might have to get the big gloves out, and I'm sure he doesn't want that."

"It's better than nothing. I'll monitor him frequently," Taeil replied.

The man sat back down and took an antiseptic wipe out of its small package. Taeyong jumped at the cold sensation but relaxed after a moment, allowing him to wipe around the wound. Following another wipe, the man looked closely at the wound. He tipped a small amount of liquid onto a piece of cloth. The very moment he placed it onto the wound, the patient tried to take his arm away, feeling the sting.

"It'll only be a moment. You might get ill if I don't do this."

He withstood it, not wanting to go back into hospital and be restrained to a bed. It was over as quickly as it began as he let his thoughts drift, but was brought back to the moment when his arm was tapped gently. He looked at the small piece of fabric covering the wound and sighed. It was going to annoy him, he could already tell.

"Can you lift your arm?" asked the man.

He obliged, allowing him to slip some fabric onto his arm. The man made sure it wasn't too tight and took out another wrap. With the second one on, he looked down at his arms before his sleeves were rolled down. The man disappeared from in front of him, heading over to a cupboard, so Taeyong turned to look at Taeil.

"You're getting some clean clothes."

"Right," said the man, "I'll pull the curtain over and you can get changed behind there. Can he do that on his own?"

"He can, he's just a little wobbly."

The man nodded. "These should be fine."

He pulled the curtain over as the psychiatrist walked Taeyong over to the bed. Though he remained slightly offending that everybody thought he couldn't do _anything_ on his own, it didn't take long for the patient to get changed. When he made his way out from behind the curtain, the man took the bloody clothes and dropped them into a container.

"Thanks for that," said Taeil, holding onto Taeyong's non-injured arm.

"It's alright. Come back if he needs any replacements."

The psychiatrist nodded. They made their way over to the door, with Taeyong still staring down at his arms. He knew the fabric was there for a good reason, but he could feel it. He knew it was there. It'd take time to get used to. When Taeil pushed the door open, he let out a sigh. Looking around, no judgemental stares were heading his way. At least that was a relief. But as they walked towards his room, he noticed an abnormal crowd gathering outside.

"Doctor Moon, we wondered where you'd gotten to," said Doctor Hak.

He felt Taeyong pull at his arm, seeking reassurance. Three of the four men stood in front of him were unfamiliar.

"Can you let me return Taeyong to his room first? This isn't good for him right now."

"Of course," said the supervisor, "go ahead."

Three of the men didn't surprise him. Doctor Jang, the supervisor and a man who he assumed was the awfully normally-dressed evaluator. But Doctor Cho, Johnny's psychiatrist was there. He realized he wasn't with them. _That_ much made sense. He let Taeyong into the room, and the younger walked in by himself, returning to the floor where he was lying when Taeil first visited. Locking the door, the psychiatrist turned around.

"Two things," said Doctor Hak, "the first is that we're doing the examination, and you won't be able to sit inside."

"But—"

"Doctor Cho has to talk to you regarding Johnny's release. Then, you have a session with a patient," he interjected.

Taeil sighed. "Right."

"But Doctor Jang has convinced—well, _threatened_ —me to let him stay in the room."

That was certainly better than nothing, and he did have to attend a session with a patient, the other one on ward four. Talking to Doctor Cho seemed rather urgent, too.

"Alright, I can accept that. But if anything happens, I want to know."

"Of course," said Doctor Jang.

"This won't take long," said Doctor Cho, "should we walk?"

"Alright."

They walked away from the others, instead heading over to the front area. "I know you've been busy, and this might not be the best time, but if you're ready, I can release Johnny next week. The paperwork is dealt with."

"There'll never be a perfect time, but I'm fine with him being released. Though, I might have to do some plan changes. I currently have a stubborn twenty-year-old living with me."

"Mark Lee?"

Taeil nodded. "His parents don't even know that he's back. It's been kept low-key."

"I can keep Johnny for another week if you'd like? I haven't told him yet."

"No, it's alright. It'll be nice to have him home. I don't want to get into the habit of putting it off, you know?"

"That makes sense. He is excited, though. I told him he'd be released before the end of the year."

"Well, next week is fine. What day?"

"Say... Friday? So I can get two more sessions in before he leaves? I'll give him my contact details in case he needs to talk."

That gave him nine days to get prepared. A fair amount of time. "That's great. Thanks. You've been a huge help even where it's not your duty."

"Stability and trust work wonders. I'm hoping Johnny took notice. Maybe he'll help you out," Doctor Cho chuckled.

"Yeah, maybe."

"On that note, if you need to talk—as psychiatrist to psychiatrist—I'd love to listen."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Taeil, "you too."

"I won't keep you any longer, but expect a few more visits over the week. You're quite difficult to track down these days."

"Yeah, sorry."

"You've got nothing to apologize for. I'll see you in a few days, I suppose."

* * *

"Taeyong," said Doctor Jang, making the patient lift his head, "this is Mr Baek, he's going to ask you some questions."

Taeyong shuffled over to the wall, taken aback by the sudden introduction of an unfamiliar person into his space. He looked towards the door, hoping that Taeil would be there, but it was in vain. The door was already closed. The man sat down on the ground in front of him with a groan, and his gaze lifted to look at the patient. Taeyong pushed himself further against the wall as he looked at a checklist in Mr Baek's hand.

Before the questioning could begin, the patient was gripping onto his sleeve, leaving the fabric on his arm visible. The man leaned over, carefully lifting his arm to have a look. He looked back at Doctor Jang, who was as surprised as he was, and turned back to look at his other arm. "Do you get these a lot? Or, is it just new?"

Silence. Taeyong looked down at his hands, paying less attention to his visitors as time passed. Doctor Jang had to step in. "Taeyong, the quicker you answer his questions, the quicker he'll leave."

The patient looked up, glancing at Mr Baek—from an angle, so he could _actually_ see—as he let out a small sigh. He didn't want to talk. The stranger was in his space, sitting there expecting him to talk. But if he wouldn't leave until he spoke, he didn't see much other choice.

"I'll ask you again. Are these new?"

He nodded.

"Why do you do that?" asked the evaluator.

"Because it blocks out everything going on in my head."

"Like what? What goes on in your head?"

Taeyong's gaze shifted down to the ground. He couldn't look directly at the man, or he _knew_ he'd panic. "T-Thoughts."

"I understand that much, but what kind of thoughts? You don't need to rush. Take it slowly."

"Memories. I think about why."

"Why it happened?" asked Mr Baek, "Why do you think your father treat you the way he did?"

Doctor Jang was clearly ready to object, but Doctor Hak warned him not to from outside.

"B-Because I was bad."

"What about Doctor Park?"

" _Mr Baek,"_ said Doctor Jang, "he hasn't talked about that with anybody yet."

"Well, this is a good place to start. Slowly easing him into it won't do him any good."

At the very mention of the Doctor, Taeyong tensed up. It didn't make it any better that he was confined against one wall. Nowhere to run, and he _knew_ he couldn't fight. He shut his eyes, hand instead gripping onto his wounded arm. But he was too busy trying to ignore his thoughts to realize the pain in his arm. The two in the room only noticed when he pulled his legs up to his chest, and Doctor Jang immediately fell into worry mode.

"Move aside."

"This evaluation is important."

"I said _move,_ " the psychiatrist asserted, "do you want to force him to relive the years of abuse with that horrible person?"

"I need to know how he'd respond to perceived threats."

Doctor Jang sighed. "Well, you can wait."

He crouched in front of Taeyong, whose head was resting gently on his crossed arms. He could tell by the way that he was moving that he was already panicked. But his concern was around the blank stare he was directing at the ground. Minimal response; he had a good idea of what was happening.

"I'm going to have to ask you to step outside," he said to the evaluator, "turn the light off, too."

"The light?"

"He's dissociating. I need minimal stimulants and light is one of the worst. I think you should consider returning for this evaluation another day. It might take him time to readjust."

Taeyong could hear everything going on around him, but he felt as though he wasn't _really_ there. He was merely spectating. Doctor Jang turned to him, with the only light flooding in from outside of the room.

"Taeyong, look at my eyes. You need to pay attention to what's around you. I know it might be easier to push it all away, but you need to look at me."

He lifted the patient's chin, though initially hesitant, and met the latter's fearful gaze. He was still very much aware of his surroundings, enough so to try and avoid the psychiatrist's eyes.

"Look at me. You need to come out of this. Tell me what you're feeling."

"He'll come back," Taeyong stammered, "he'll find me."

"It's been six years, he can't come back. He's gone, Taeyong."

"H-He wants to kill me."

"Can you tell me what year it is? The month?"

The patient paused, eyes drifting over to the wall. "Twenty-three... I don't know the month."

"The Doctor died in seventeen. He's gone, he can't come back," said Doctor Jang. "Can you move your legs?"

Taeyong shifted his leg slightly, and the psychiatrist pulled his legs flat onto the ground. He took the patient's hands away from himself. Slipping his hand behind his back, he tried to prompt him to stand up.

"I'll help you stand up. We can't make you sit here and do nothing. You need to move."

"But I can't—"

"You can. Wait here, sit on the bed for a moment," said Doctor Jang, helping the patient over to the bed.

Once he was sure Taeyong wasn't going to just fall onto the floor, he stepped away and walked to the door, knocking on it to get the other's attention. Taeil was also stood outside, panic evident as he paced along the hallway.

"I need Taeyong's crutch. It's in my office. Can somebody get it?"

Doctor Hak nodded, receiving the keys that he held out. "I'll get it."

"What the hell happened?" asked Taeil, hurrying to the door.

"The evaluator asked him about why Doctor Park did those things. I assume he had a flashback or something because he was convinced the Doctor was still alive. He _does_ know the year, though. But he dissociated, so I need to get him moving so he doesn't have another flashback and the episode is prolonged. He seems a little out of it still."

"Dissociation? So—"

"We need to look at Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder as a potential—hopefully correct—diagnosis. His violent behavior is merely down to how he was, well, _wasn't_ raised," Doctor Jang interrupted, "but you seemed to do a good job at teaching him that he can't fight, my only concern is that he'll have a dangerous 'act to please' mentality out of fear of being harmed, that makes him extremely vulnerable."

"So, that's something to work on. Are you alright with taking him to move around? I have a session down the hall now."

"Of course, he's still my patient even if we're sharing the duty right now."

"I'll come back once that's done. Just... don't let that evaluator talk to him anymore today. It'll have to be delayed."

"I'll chase him out with a stick if I have to."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize if I completely butchered dissociation at the end there... I've never experienced it and while I do know somebody who _does_ , I don't exactly want to ask because we're not super close, so I read a few websites and watched some videos. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoyed (but this story is getting sadder and it makes me feel sad to write.)


	9. Rampage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An important person from Taeyong's orphanage days is reintroduced into his life, but an interference sends him into a reactive state. Mark continues to search for a job, feeling powerless to help Taeyong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _A week later..._

Taeyong was just waking up when he heard noises of movement beyond the door. He didn't feel the need to turn around—as it was too dark to see anyway—but instead just stayed still. He knew Doctor Jang was the one who had the key to his room, and he didn't see any reason why he'd be visiting so early in the morning. But he felt as though somebody was looking at him; he didn't know who, but they were definitely staring. His hearing was exceptional, so he lay still. He could hear lead running across a sheet of paper, followed by a gentle knock. Something wasn't right.

"Taeyong," a female voice called quietly, familiar yet unrecognizable.

He turned his head slightly, curious about his onlooker. He'd come into contact with plenty of people on his way to Daehak. It was hard to recognize people who were hardly involved in his life.

"Are you awake?"

Taeyong decided to turn around completely. His curiosity always got the better of him. Familiar... but different. He sat up, looking at the door as his legs dangled off of the bed. He could see the glint of somebody's eyes by the door. His mind was working as hard as it could trying to decipher who exactly was stood behind that door. He heard a masculine yawn and raised an eyebrow. They weren't alone.

"Taeyong... come here," the woman called.

He was feeling compelled to walk over, even if he'd never purposefully approach somebody who he wasn't sure meant no harm to him. He stood up, shaking his arms to fix his sleeves. At first, he approached slowly, watching carefully. The dim lighting outside of his room allowed him to examine the woman's features. His eyes widened. He hurried to the door—stumbling in the process—and gripped onto the bars covering the small windows. The woman smiled at him warmly.

"I can't believe it's really you..." she said, "you've grown so much, it's been so long."

Taeyong looked at the doctor from the day before beside the woman. He was going through his pockets and soon, he took out a bunch of keys. Looking through them, he eventually made a selection and moved towards the door. "Move back and I'll let her in."

The patient shuffled back, making space for the door to open. Once it swung open, he hurried forward before she could even step inside and hugged her, resting his head on her shoulder. She patted his back, surprised by how he'd almost immediately recognized her. She took his arms away from her, prompting him to move back so that the door could be closed. She was told she had fifteen minutes, soon, the door was closed and the light turned on.

"Look at you, you're an adult now. You have been for a while... that's unbelievable. You remember me?"

He nodded eagerly. He hadn't felt such intense happiness in so long. She held his face, running her thumb along the scar beside his right eye. He could tell she was holding back tears. The woman—who Taeyong only knew as Boa—worked in the orphanage. Even though she was _trying_ to teach him how to talk, he obviously was too distracted and still shaken to actually pick anything up. But she managed to get closer to him than the older staff. She was closer to his mother's age, he recognized that, and she was helping him no matter what. He never knew why she stopped visiting him. He was in the orphanage for a further two years, and that was when he started ignoring them. It was progressive that he trusted Boa. It took almost a year. After that, he couldn't get close to the others and soon turned violent because that was _all_ he knew.

"I was told you can talk now, can you talk for me?" she asked.

"I-I missed you," Taeyong replied.

"Sit down, we don't have long."

He nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. She sat beside him and smiled as he turned around. Boa ruffled his hair, making him smile, and set her hand back down on her lap.

"You've become quite the story in the orphanage," she said, "we leave out all of the scary parts, of course."

"I thought you left?"

"No, I wasn't allowed to see you anymore. I can talk about this now because it's been ten years. They were worried I'd get in the way of their plans for you. I asked them if I could take you home with me, and take care of you there... but they didn't want me to. It wasn't any of the other staff, it was the old Doctor."

Taeyong frowned, looking down at his clenched fist.

"I'm quite surprised—all of the others were, too. Even some of the other children who came back to visit. I hate to admit it, but everybody thought you wouldn't make it. You were so small and fragile, we were worried we'd hurt you. But you're still going strong."

"I don't feel like it sometimes..."

"You are, Taeyong. I know a lot has happened."

She gently pulled him over to her side, letting him lean on her as she softly caressed the back of his head. He closed his eyes. It was always so calming to him. He just wanted to fall asleep, without a care in the world. Even scents. Some people's natural, clean scents were calming to him. He'd become so acclimatized over the years to using all of his senses more, especially in his years living outside, with creatures that couldn't just _talk_ to him. Watching their body language, listening to the slightest noises which could pose a threat to him, and detecting certain scents.

"You're a lot bigger than you used to be," Boa chuckled, "I'm glad you can talk to me, I was always so worried I was reading you wrong when I was caring for you. The only clear emotions you had were annoyance and sadness."

Taeyong laughed quietly. Of what he could remember, that sounded pretty accurate.

"Actually—when you were happy you used to be very cuddly. Sometimes you'd refuse to let go of me and just sit on my lap, cuddling me for hours. You never spoke an intelligible word to me apart from yes and no for three years."

"I could speak more, I just didn't want to because people _expected_ it from me."

"Always a little rebel, hey?"

"You understood me fine. Better than the others, anyway."

Boa nodded. "That's because I was with you every day. I learned how you interacted after a while. It makes sense, I read about it. You mimicked the dogs because it's human instinct to act like those around you. You started picking up my behavior eventually, too. Some things never faded out, though. I think we'd have gotten further if I was allowed to stay with you. I think the most problematic thing was the biting, even if you didn't always mean harm. Also, it would have probably been better if you stopped growling."

"It gets the point across..."

"I'm glad you stopped howling. You kept everybody awake."

Taeyong crossed his arms. "You're bullying me."

"I'm not! I'm reminiscing."

"Bully."

"Bullying would be laughing at how you used to refuse to eat on an elevated surface."

Taeyong shook his head. "You're making fun of me."

"It's light-hearted humor."

There was a knock on the door, making them look over. The Doctor was stood outside of the door. "Time's up, it's almost time for lights on. I'll have to ask you to leave before the other patients awaken."

"Already?" asked Boa, "Alright, I suppose I should get back to work."

"Can you come back?" Taeyong frowned.

"If I'm allowed."

"I'll contact you when it's appropriate," said the Doctor, "a nurse will lead you out."

"I'll see you again soon, then."

"Bye," the patient spoke sadly, he was enjoying the company.

He watched as she left, sighing. He had an hour or two until he'd have a Doctor's company—or so he thought. The Doctor who opened the door stepped in, immediately making Taeyong tense. He wasn't supposed to be in his space.

"Don't tell Doctor Moon or Doctor Jang about this, or she won't be coming back."

"Why—"

"I said, _don't_."

The patient looked down, gulping nervously. He needed to get out of there.

"Do you understand?" the Doctor questioned, "Do you need me to show you how serious I am?"

"I-I understand."

The Doctor took a step closer to him and Taeyong immediately jumped back.

"Don't speak a _word_ of this to them. If you do, your precious stand-in mother won't be coming back and I'll make sure you regret your actions."

* * *

Mark had decided to _not_ return to doing his community service and get it over and done with. He spent his plentiful free time job searching, to which he was unsuccessful. He tried anything. Anything at all. But everybody was cautious. He had a bad name, and even though it hadn't been announced to the public that he was back in public, the news spread like a wildfire. The detectives didn't seem to care. Mark believed it was their plan; they purposefully made his life hard to teach him a lesson. Yet another failed interview was down. The woman told him he was too blunt. _That_ didn't come as a surprise.

He walked out of the restaurant, hands slipped into his pocket as he looked around. He didn't know how people could be outside by choice in that dreadfully bitter autumn air. His breath turned to a thin smoke, even in the middle of the day. The sun was cowering behind clouds. The shopping quarter was surprisingly busy. Obnoxiously happy people flooded the streets. Mark wanted to throw them all into reality. Spit some strong language in their direction and tear them out of their cheerful spirit. He didn't consider himself a killjoy, but he certainly wasn't the most optimistic person in Seoul.

How could he be? He'd had his happiness taken away from him. He wasn't the same naive seventeen-year-old that he was when his only care in the world was trying to stammer excuses to his biology teacher about how his homework was taken by a burglar or something else completely and utterly absurd. His parents had even told him. He was _"just a child"._ He couldn't have his own free thoughts. But when he was slapped in the face by reality, meeting some of the people most damaged and thrown aside by society, he was forced to grow up on the spot. Make a decision anybody would flake at. The dead, or the living? Report the bodies rotting away in an old building for the sake of who? Somebody living on the outside, acting like nothing had ever happened?

The harsh truth was that once somebody dies, that's it. They're gone. People fuss over them for a few days, maybe a month or two, and then they move on. The living, however, often find themselves ignored. People only notice once they're gone. Then, they move on. The cycle continues. Mark didn't want to ignore the living. He saw something in Taeyong's eyes that most others overlooked, being put off by the ghastly bloodstains on his hands. There was hope. It _killed_ Mark to think about the innocence which the patient held onto, even though everything that had happened. He just wanted somebody to look at him as the person he was, rather than some beast who needed to be held in chains.

Mark was similar. He was sick of being seen as an easy target, and he hoped he'd gotten that point across with Myungdae the last time he'd seen him. If he ever saw him again and the bully didn't run away in fear, they'd have a problem. He certainly wasn't scared about reacting anymore. If his parents every found him—which he assumed they _would_ —he'd have no issue with releasing all the pent up anger that he had towards them. That was if his father was still around. If he turned to the bottle, he very well could have either moved away or wound up dead. Neither would surprise the son.

He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to warm them up before returning his hands to their home in his pocket. He had nowhere else to be, so began to walk in the direction which would eventually lead him to Taeil's apartment. He didn't want to act like a freeloader, but he wasn't having any luck in the slightest in the work department. He wanted to at least get enough money to start renting an apartment and actually live if he wanted to survive the wait for Taeyong to be returned to him. He didn't know how long it would be, but if he had to, he'd wait. He loved the patient and people knew that. But the stars never seemed to work in their favor. It was like the world wanted them to be apart. Mark was willing to fight against that.

Before he could continue walking, paying very little attention to the path ahead of him, he heard a familiar voice calling out. The owner of the familiar voice snapped him back to reality, forcing him to turn around, a _very_ unamused sneer on his face as he was reminded that he was walking in the cold. To make it worse, somebody who had made it very clear he wasn't a huge fan of him in the past was walking towards him. "What are you doing here?"

"I was shopping," Jaehyun replied, lifting a bag, "what about you?"

"Walking."

"Out in this? It's probably going to snow sometime soon."

"I hope not," Mark muttered.

The elder sighed. "You still hate me? I was protecting Taeyong, you know."

"You were creepy, very creepy. Like some kind of devil on his shoulder, trying to show him that he was dangerous."

"Because he _was._ You have no idea what kind of things he'd do before Johnny dragged Taeil into this mess."

"Like what? If he's really that dangerous, tell me what he did."

"I said _was_ , Mark. He _was_ dangerous."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Jaehyun knew that much, but it just wasn't the best place for a conversation of the sort. "Do you want people to overhear me and start spreading exaggerated stories again?"

"Then why don't we move away from the nosy crowd? It doesn't take a genius to think of that."

"Take me to Taeil's apartment. I need to talk to him anyway."

"Fine. I hope none of your shopping can melt."

"I can abandon it on the way. Me and Doyoung don't live that far away, you should have noticed that yourself when you tracked us down."

* * *

Taeil walked up the stairs into the ward after a session in the morning with another patient. He had two days until Johnny was going to be leaving Daehak, and he still hadn't forewarned Mark, which he decided to do when he could do that. He walked down the hallway, a gentle sigh slipping out of his lips as he saw Doctor Jang stood talking to a nurse. Either it was a coincidence, or he was waiting for him. He hoped for the first, but as he noticed his presence and parted with the nurse, he dreaded how likely it was that it was the latter.

"Finally, you're here," said Doctor Jang, "you're not gonna like this."

"Save me the stress, just tell me."

The younger psychiatrist's eyes were caught by two paramedics who walked down the hallway, a bag swinging in one's grasp. He watched as they walked towards the exit, before his gaze shot back to his colleague.

"What the _hell_ happened?"

"Follow me," the elder spoke quietly.

Annoyed by the lack of an immediate response, Taeil followed behind Doctor Jang. As they walked straight past Taeyong's room, he looked in. There was blood on the wall and the floor. He immediately began to walk faster. "Just tell me!"

"You need to see for yourself."

"I don't like surprises, can you just give me a warning?"

The elder remained silent. It was difficult for Taeil to remain calm when he didn't know what to expect. There were more nurses crowded around a room, and a psychiatrist or two dotted around the proximity. Even patients had been alerted, looking out of their rooms to see what was going on. People began to separate to allow them through. Doctor Jang turned around, looking at everybody crowding.

"Back to work. You shouldn't be making a fuss," he announced, "there's nothing to see, you'll all be briefed if we have information to give."

Many began to dissipate as he turned back around, opening the door. The room was an old social room. Poorly-lit by old bulbs, there was hardly anything in the room. But on the other side, there was a door open, letting in some natural light. Taeil was about to hurry over, but the older psychiatrist grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

"Wait, you can't run."

"You're not giving me _any_ information, I can't just assume!" he muttered.

"Just be slow, predictable, and quiet," said Doctor Jang, "Taeyong's on the balcony, he's disorientated and has been really reactive with the staff."

"I have a feeling you're keeping something major from me."

"Just come on."

Taeil followed behind the elder, slowly walking over to the balcony doors. It was a rather small area, just a space for fresh air which was securely fenced right up to the roofing. It had become inaccessible after the floor was converted into a room-only area. Patients couldn't go wherever they wanted, they were restricted, held inside their small rooms. When the psychiatrist looked out, his heart sank. Though he was faced out to the view, the string crossing along the back of his head gave away the presence of the eyepatch he'd been priorly given, in addition to a thick layering of bandage wrapped around his head. He was hardly holding himself up using his crutch, and Taeil could see him swaying gently. A nurse was sat at the other side of the balcony but soon left when the psychiatrists arrived.

"Taeyong, what happened?"

"I wouldn't bother, he's been ignoring everybody."

"That doesn't mean _I_ should give up, he's most likely to talk to me," the younger replied.

There wasn't a response, though. It was just wishful thinking. Taeil turned back to Doctor Jang, pulling him aside. He needed answers, theories—anything that the older psychiatrist could give him.

"What happened?"

"Well, that depends on what you mean. How he got his injuries, or why he has assaulted two members of staff in the span of twenty minutes?"

Taeil's eyes widened and he sighed, rubbing his temples. That wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Why did he assault two members of staff? Who was it? How?"

"I don't know why he did, he's been agitated all morning apparently. He severely punctured a vein in Doctor Hak's hand, pushed him, and hit him. A nurse tried to help Doctor Hak and was also bitten."

"And the injuries..?"

"He had a huge meltdown afterward. They left him to calm down, came back and he was about to fall unconscious. He gave himself quite a serious head injury and they don't know how long he was on the ground bleeding for. Or why any of this happened."

Taeil furrowed his eyebrows. "There had to have been something to set him off. He doesn't just spontaneously attack people, he never has."

"For Doctor Hak, he could have been out of it and mistaken him for Doctor Park."

"But he wouldn't attack unless provoked—we taught him not to."

"Unless you're implying your supervisor is abusing his position, it's obvious those lessons haven't stuck."

"Of course I'm not implying that," the younger sighed.

"Well, we have some work to do, don't we? We can create a—" there was a crashing sound from the balcony, immediately causing the psychiatrists to be drowned in panic, "—plan."

Taeil shot around the corner, muttering a quiet curse as he looked at Taeyong. The patient was lying on the ground, his crutch lying on the ground far from where he was. He sat himself up, but when the psychiatrist tried to help him, he immediately pushed him away.

"Hey, that's not the way to treat somebody who saved your life," said Doctor Jang.

"It's alright—"

"No, it isn't. If he doesn't learn, something serious will happen, _again_."

Taeyong held an intense glare at the ground, ignoring Taeil's concerned gaze. He clenched his fist against his knee. His eyes lifted from the ground as he heard the two around him move.

"We can't just leave him here, he'll have to go back into his room."

"Good luck with that," said the older psychiatrist, leaning to pick the crutch off the ground, "he isn't allowed."

"What?"

Doctor Jang pulled him aside, looking down at the patient. He leaned closer to Taeil, speaking quietly. "He has to go into a cell."

"That will wake this worse, by a long shot."

"Doctor Hak's choice—not mine."

"Well," the younger psychiatrist sighed, "I suppose I should get him moving, at least."

He moved back over, taking a space beside Taeyong to kneel on the ground, catching his gaze for a moment. The patient looked disinterested.

"Why are you back in your defensive state? What happened? Is it something we've done? The evaluation, perhaps?"

No response. Taeil sighed, looking as the younger continued to clench his fist. Crimson leaked through the bandage, a small amount dripping down beside the rim of his eyepatch. The psychiatrist was surprised he hadn't torn it off, he seemed to hate having it on, but when he was interacting with people _out_ of the facility, it acted as a sort of warning about his blind eye. Hesitantly, the psychiatrist lifted his hand toward Taeyong's arm. The latter didn't notice at first. But when he made contact with him, he felt the younger's arm twitch. He knew it was probably a terrible idea—he was in the patient's blind spot—but he proceeded nonetheless, still confident that he was closer to him than anybody else.

A moment was all it took. It all proceeded too quickly for him to react; Taeyong's arm was withdrawn from his grasp as he shuffled back, and before he could even realize that he had turned around, he felt a sharp pain in his hand and looked down to see that the patient had trapped his hand between his jaws. He heard Doctor Jang run, making Taeyong's eyes follow him until he was grabbed by his button-up in an attempt to pull him away.

"Jesus Christ, Taeyong! Let go! That's Taeil!"

Taeil had his eyes clenched shut, holding his breath to prevent himself from escalating the issue by trying to force his hand away. Sure, it was painful, and he was sure that the skin had been broken, but it wasn't the _worst_ pain imaginable. He'd been bitten by Taeyong before. It just so happened that the patient had gotten far stronger since, and it had been around five years. His jaw soon seemed to ease, but as quickly as the bite had ensued, he turned around and pushed Doctor Jang away, before scrambling into the social room. The psychiatrists shared a glance, still in shock. Taeil tightly gripped his hand to numb the pain, seeing that Taeyong had indeed broken skin, and it was bleeding.

"Leave this to me, you go and clean up your hand," said the older psychiatrist.

"I'm fine, it's not the worst injury I've had in my life. Nowhere near, actually."

"Then let's go. Wait here while I get some reinforcement."

Taeil walked back into the room and looked around and Doctor Jang hurried out of the door, locking it behind him. The psychiatrist sighed. He needed to know what was going on in order to get through to Taeyong. "Where are you? Taeyong, I'm not angry. I just need you to talk to me."

Of what was in the room, most of it consisted of boxes, overturned tables, and old couches. Plenty of spaces for somebody with a keen eye for hiding places. Taeil didn't doubt that if he tried hard enough, Taeyong would break through the ventilation grid low on the wall and somehow find his way to an exit from the building. That would probably end in another outburst, and giving what state he was in, maybe even a murder or two. If that never happened, then he'd certainly run out in the middle of a road and get into an accident that he couldn't recover from. The very thought made his body fill with nerves.

"Come on... don't worry me like this. We can talk it through."

Starting in one corner of the room, Taeil began to look behind each possible hiding place in the room. Even though he understood the urgency, the psychiatrist couldn't help but feel the slightest bit of fear in the pit of his stomach, carefully peeking behind each box or couch. The thought of Taeyong jumping out at him and attacking him lingered in the back of his mind. He didn't want to fear him. They'd managed to make _so_ much progress, but whatever had happened, it had activated something old in the patient's mind—as though he was back in Namhyeon, jumpy and violent.

When the door opened, Taeil turned around. Doctor Jang returned with a nurse, another psychiatrist, and something in his hand which made the Taeil's eyes widen. An injecting needle. He immediately shook his head. "He can't have—"

"It's a low dose, fast release. It's only as a last resort. His body shouldn't be strained. We have the on-site medical team on standby. Unless you'd rather have more people attacked?"

"Fine, I'll trust you. But I don't know where he is."

They all began to search. While the room was large, there wasn't too much dotted around. Taeyong was crouching behind a box, breathing heavily as he pulled the bandages from his head. Ignoring the intense headache which was ravaging his entire body and making him feel hazy, he leaned forward as he discarded the cloth bandage. Holding himself up on his hands and knees, a weak groan slipped out from his lips as he looked at the ground, watching the blood drip onto the carpet. Each drip seemed to steal more and more of his awareness. He blinked slowly, looking around to see where everybody was, but his eyes landed on several shards of glass on the ground from a tipped-over box. He reached out for it and held it tightly in his grasp.

He could hear the others walking. Things were being moved, and voices growing closer. His vision was blurry as he let himself fall onto his side, coughing weakly. He must have made more noise than he anticipated. Through his faded, distorted vision, he saw people approaching. Somebody shook him—Taeil, as he recognized by the familiar voice and scent—as his grip loosened on the glass and his head began to fall limp. Everything was quiet, but he was still there. He could _feel_ the environment, the small pieces of glass embedded in his hand. But even that was taken away from him in a matter of moments. His body felt numb. 

Before he knew it, he felt like he wasn't even there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun... (Have I done that before? I feel like I have)
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think of this chapter! (And if I'm being too dark, because I will listen)


	10. Uncertainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong wakes up determined to abide by Doctor Hak's threat in order to meet Boa again, but Taeil is persistent. Mark is notified of Johnny's return. Taeil continues to dig deeper into Taeyong's past and his connections.

**April 2006**

"Taeyong!" Mrs Lee called, stood in front of the door, wrapped in a thick dressing gown with a bowl in her hand.

She waited for her son to emerge from the barn as he usually did, running out with the three dogs at his side, but he didn't. Going back inside of the house, she soon returned—wearing slippers—and stepped out into the cold air. As she pulled the barn door open and shuffled inside, she caught a glance of the heaps of fur lying behind the hay and straw. Walking past the goat's pen, she stood by the bales smiling as she looked at how the dogs all huddled beside Taeyong, trying to keep each other warm.

Her son's frame was pitiful. He was thin; almost wasting away. After being ill for two weeks, he was thrown out into the cold. But she couldn't fight against the decision. His father would have killed him if he had the chance. To him, Taeyong was nothing but a byproduct. He didn't see him as a living, breathing being with his genetics. To him, his own son was a waste of time and money. All along, Taeyong had been small. He was born early, after all. The boy was also always quiet. He wouldn't speak much, but if he did, it was obvious he was being careful.

When he fell ill, Mr Lee saw that as a deal-sealer. He didn't want to waste money on getting him treated. They'd have people asking questions about why they'd never taken their son to the hospital before. Mrs Lee knew her husband was leaving him to die, so she took matters into her own hands to treat him. It was slow, and at times, it was obvious that her son was in distress. He'd whine quietly in his sleep, tossing and turning all night. When he wasn't throwing up, he wasn't acting himself. He'd be distant and cold.

He'd gotten better, but he was struggling to put on the weight he lost. Mrs Lee continued to feed him even when her husband had told her to let him deal with his own food. "It'll make him stronger, the wimp needs to fend for himself," he'd say. Even if it was only the leftovers or whatever she could throw together, it was better than expecting him to live off of vegetables or whatever else he could find on their land.

She smiled as he began to awaken, his hand running through fur as he stretched. The dogs responded to his movement, and soon, the border collie rested her head in front of his. He nuzzled his face into her fur, resting his arm over her body. Mrs Lee tried not to chuckle and wake him completely, but when the other dogs noticed her presence, they stood up, making Taeyong's lift his head. The boy's eyes lit up as he saw his mother and he hurried to stand up, running over to her.

She looked down at him for a moment as he smiled, looking up. With her free hand, she fixed his hair, leaning down to kiss him on the head. "You need a bath."

She kneeled down to his level, but before she could sit on the ground properly, Taeyong pulled some food out of the bowl and quickly ate it, making her laugh.

"Are you hungry?" she asked.

He nodded in response. Mrs Lee tapped her lap for him to sit down, so he did. She held the bowl for him to eat and leaned her head against the back of his head, ignoring the mix of earthly scent and dog that clung to him.

"What do you think about leaving here? Do you want to run away from home with me? We can find somewhere."

That wasn't something that Taeyong could really comprehend. They had their land, and as far as he was aware, that meant they couldn't go anywhere else. He continued to eat, still listening.

"Whatever happens, Tae, you have to be strong. Never let anybody hurt you, or belittle your worth. They're just jealous of you. You're perfect."

The boy pushed the bowl aside, prompting his mother to place it on the bale beside them. He turned around and hugged Mrs Lee, wrapping his small arms as far as he could around her. She chuckled as he buried his face into her neck—or, as far up as he could reach. She softly stroked the back of his head.

"You have to be fierce, too. Defend yourself. You're like my little wolf-boy," she said, "that sounds better than dog-boy, doesn't it?"

Taeyong nodded gently against her and she held him tighter.

"You really do need a bath, though. But I suppose I should get used to this new scent you've picked up."

**—TIME SKIP—**

It took a moment when Taeyong woke up for him to realize where he was. He merely lay on a mattress, hidden under a cover in the corner of a room. When he emerged from under the mass of fabric he'd buried his face under in his sleep, he looked around the room to see nothing but white. He sighed the moment it clicked. He looked at the door, somebody _had_ to be watching him. He lifted his hand to his forehead, realizing that there was a new bandage around his head and that the eyepatch was also securely reinforced by the bandage. He looked around to see cameras in two corners of the room, pointing in each direction to monitor him.

He sat up but was hit by a wave of dizziness. Leaning against the wall, he looked at his hands. His right hand was covered in numerous little cuts from the glass. He _had_ intended to protect himself with that glass, but his body didn't let that happen. His eyes shot to the door when he heard the lock turn. It was opened, and Taeil stepped in. He was alone. Hardly moving where he was sat, Taeyong watched the psychiatrist, eyes following as he walked closer.

"Taeyong, are you alright? You've been out for almost four hours. We were almost going to take you to the hospital."

The patient looked away when Taeil sat on the ground in front of him. He rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

"You still won't talk? You're worrying me..."

He was listening, but he wouldn't respond. He didn't want to accidentally tell the psychiatrist about the threats from his coworker, nor did he want the elder to not believe him. _"Why would a professional threaten a patient?"_ would probably be the response he'd get.

"We've got your results back. Your blood's all clear. There's nothing abnormal that you need to worry about, just things for us to keep in mind. But you're still underweight, so we need to deal with that, and also build up some muscle in your legs."

Taeyong glanced at Taeil to see the elder looking down at the ground, frowning. He fixed his doctor's coat and sighed.

"If you don't tell me what happened, I'll have to look at the camera footage from the hallway. If something has happened to make you refuse to talk, I need to know."

"I-It's nothing—"

"Don't lie to me, Taeyong. You're obviously hiding something. Are you ashamed of something? Give me your arms."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it? I can't help you if you don't talk."

"I can't tell you!" the patient exclaimed, "Mind your own business."

Taeyong moved from the wall and lay down on the mattress, facing the wall. He heard Taeil sigh behind him.

"Look, I'm sorry if it's coming across as if I'm prying, but you can tell me anything. I'm not going to speak out of line or judge you."

The patient clenched his eyes shut, not wanting to let the forced words get to him. He was only saying it because it was his job, nothing else.

"Then I'll look at the camera footage and see what's going on."

"You can't do that," Taeyong insisted, "fine, you win!"

Taeil watched as the younger turned around and held his arm out. He pushed his sleeve down and looked under the fabric wrap, but nothing looked any worse than it already was. "Taeyong, I'm not stupid. You're trying to get me off of your back."

"Don't look at the video!"

"Why? If nothing happened, why can't I look?"

"I-I just feel bad for attacking people..."

Taeil nodded gently. "Are you being honest with me?"

"Yes! I don't want you to see the video."

"Alright, I'll trust you. But you can't play the silence game. We need you to talk to us."

"I will!"

"Well, if that's the case, I'll leave."

Taeyong watched as the psychiatrist did exactly that. While he was glad to have him off of his back, he didn't like the feeling of containment in the padded cell. The only sound he could hear was the sound of his own breathing. The door had closed, leaving him alone to ponder. He wanted to leave, but he couldn't. Taeyong returned to his position of lying on the lone mattress and sighed. His fists clenched against the fabric surface as he faced the wall, eyes fixed on the fabric sleeves on either of his wrists.

He couldn't identify the feeling that lingered in his stomach, tearing him apart from the inside. He wanted to scream. Everything was piling up, adding more weight. The longing to be in Mark's arms again was making Taeyong feel alone and restricted. He let out a small sigh as he curled himself further, letting his head rest on the mattress rather than the flimsy pillow beside his head. He shut his eyes gently to try and ignore the cell that he was trapped in.

* * *

"What the hell do you mean?" Mark spat, "I can't live anywhere _near_ that piece of shit!"

Taeil sighed. He knew it was going to happen the second he made the younger aware that Johnny was preparing to return home. "I know you don't like him—"

"It's not just 'not liking', I _hate_ him! He used to treat Taeyong like shit!"

"They were as bad as each other, and they couldn't help it. Johnny is on decent medication now, he's a lot calmer."

"I don't care!"

"Mark, this isn't easy for me. I can't make him stay somewhere else. He's got no family and I can't afford to spend any more money right now."

"Can't he stay with Jaehyun and Doyoung?"

The psychiatrist shook his head. "I don't want to put any pressure on their relationship, so I need you to accept Johnny's presence. Plus, Jaehyun needs to focus on his own recovery."

"Then I'll move out. I can't be with him, I'll kill him!"

"No, you won't. Stop overreacting. Unless you want your parents to take you in?"

"You can't do that."

"Yes, I can. If you keep acting like this, I'll have to. I know you've got a grudge. _Please_ just try to ignore him."

Mark visibly clenched his jaw and let out a bitter sigh. "Fine! Only because you're not giving me much choice."

When Jaehyun had dropped off his groceries, he'd been met by Doyoung—to his surprise—and they couldn't talk. They said they would another day, though, and Mark _was_ curious about his boyfriend's past. Any information could help him piece-together what he could do in the future to help.

"There's one more thing," said Taeil, as if on cue, "about Taeyong."

Mark looked at the psychiatrist as the latter pulled his hand out of his pocket. He raised, revealing it to be covered by a bandage, and the younger's eyes immediately widened.

"Apparently, we've been set back a little. Probably because he'd only been with you for three years, and the memories... I think I scared him."

"He... hurt you?"

"Bit," Taeil corrected, "I was the third person in one day."

Mark furrowed his eyebrows, gaze falling down to the ground as the psychiatrist forced a chuckle.

"His teeth are quite sharp. And jaw power? He's getting stronger, so I suppose that's good."

"Can I see him?"

"I'm not sure," said the elder, "that's a reward, and he's in a cell."

"There has to be a reason that he did that, surely."

"Well, we're not sure. But I think the ward's making his memories come back with more force. He's been... struggling. After he attacked the first two people, he almost knocked himself unconscious and after he bit me, he _did_ fall unconscious."

"He shouldn't be in there. He should be with me!"

"And what if he was? Say you were still living in that old barn. If Taeyong attacked you, ran away into the forest and you couldn't find him, he'd be dead within hours. Or what if he started harming himself? What could you do then?"

Mark sighed and fell back onto the couch. He couldn't do anything, which is why he felt so powerless. A hug likely wouldn't be adequate. He didn't know what to do, he'd never been in that situation before. Sure Taeyong would wander off, and every now and again he'd find him collecting berries in the woods, but he'd never stray far, and he certainly never injured himself on purpose.

"What if I was to move into the ward?"

To that, Taeil's eyes immediately changed to that of alarm. "No. Not happening. Don't you _dare_ do anything stupid."

"Nothing too bad," Mark stood up, looking around. "Tell them I attacked you."

"You'd go to jail, Mark. The prosecutors aren't even off Taeyong's back yet."

"But I'm not killing you, I could just—"

"Why would I let you attack me? I know I'd do almost anything for my patients, but that's too far. You _are_ quite hostile these days, but you're healthy. Not to mention that Taeyong's on a ward filled with killers and convicts."

"Get him moved to another."

"Do you think I run the place? I can't just do what I want. He was going to be evaluated for his risk, but he dissociated during the evaluation and they had to stop."

"He _what_?" asked Mark.

Taeil sighed. "You really have no clue, do you? It's like... 'being out of it'. A state of disconnect with the environment and one's senses."

"That doesn't make it any easier to understand."

"Look it up later, I don't have time to give you a psychology lesson. My point is, you _can't_ just move onto the ward. I'm sure the detectives wouldn't be happy, either."

"They'd only be happy if I moved to another country and forgot about everything we've been through."

"I can understand why, but since I know how much you two rely on each other, I'm not going to interfere. I'll see if you can meet him, but don't get your hopes up."

* * *

Yuta stood by the door to his room, looking out as people walked past. He could _kind_ of see the other patients, but he was far from them, merely observing. He made eye contact with Johnny, and the elder held up three fingers. A quiet chuckle slipped out from the Japanese patient's mouth, and he mouthed something at the other patient. Johnny shook his head, to which Yuta sighed. They'd continued to communicate—although minimally—even after the younger was separated from everybody else.

Yuta would stand at the door, and Johnny would be in the patient area, where everybody could talk. Though they were three meters apart, they eventually managed to communicate through hand signals and reading each other's lips, even if they both innately hated each other. The elder got outside information, and the Japanese patient liked to know what was going on. It was a good match. Yuta knew Taeyong had been found, even if nobody else would tell him, and felt relieved.

Johnny had also notified him about his departure, which led to an angry head shake from the younger. As one of his final messages, he told Yuta some of the gossip he'd heard, about Taeyong attacking three people. He didn't know who, all he knew was that nobody died. They both found that disappointing. The Japanese patient looked around, his gaze eventually fixing on a familiar face. His eyes immediately lit up and he banged on the door. "Sicheng!"

The psychiatrist looked up from the clipboard he was looking at and sighed, hiding his face. He looked around to make sure nobody was staring and walked over. "Can you be quiet? I'm trying to work."

"I want to see you."

"You can see me now. I don't have time."

"You never have time," the patient whined, "I'm starting to think you don't care about me anymore."

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm just busy and not allowed to spend time with you."

"But Taeil gets to see Johnny. Why can't you see me?"

Sicheng once again checked for any peering eyes and sighed as he turned back. "Because Johnny isn't serving a prison sentence."

"That's just absurd. I didn't kill people to be locked away like this."

"You shouldn't have done it if you didn't want to serve a sentence."

"It's against my comprehension to understand the nature of my crimes," Yuta winked, making the psychiatrist laugh and shake his head.

"Lies."

"It fooled the judge, even if I still have twenty-six years left to serve. At least you're here so I can make sure you don't cheat on me with another patient."

"I wouldn't dare."

The patient grinned at Sicheng, and the latter let out a relieved sigh. Even if Yuta was odd—which was an understatement—he still enjoyed their occasional conversations.

"Don't you have a patient to see?" asked somebody from behind the psychiatrist.

Yuta scowled as he saw an older man down the hallway. He _hated_ him. He was always sticking his nose into their business, and he felt his blood boil every time he stepped anywhere near Sicheng. He had a gut feeling that he couldn't trust him.

"I was just heading there now."

"That's not what it looks like."

Sicheng looked back at Yuta, smiling gently at him before he continued to walk. The patient's eyes shut over to the other psychiatrist, infuriated, and he scowled.

"Back off," he warned, "I don't want to see you anywhere near him."

"That isn't for a convict to decide."

* * *

Taeil's head was resting on his desk as his laptop remained switched on in front of him. When the door opened, he lifted his head as quickly as he could, feeling the strain at the sudden movement. It was only Doctor Jang—which relieved him, while simultaneously making him worried—and the elder held a piece of paper.

"What's that?"

"This is a location that I'll be needing you to go to tomorrow," the older psychiatrist replied, "the nearest hospital."

"Why?" asked Taeil, slightly confused.

Doctor Jang laughed quietly at the younger's poor memory. "Taeyong's neurological exam."

"Right! So soon?"

"Since he sustained a head injury, the neurologist, Doctor Jeong, wishes to see him as soon as possible. I've already told Doctor Hak, he's authorized it, but I have something planned tomorrow. You'll have to take him."

"That's alright. What time?"

"Eleven. It should only take an hour or so, depending on how Taeyong acts."

Taeil sighed. "That's the catch, he's not the biggest fan of people."

"I'm sure he'll be fine with you there. Just make sure you get some good rest tonight."

"I was going to continue watching the videos tonight, I suppose that's not a good idea."

"Taeyong's treatment log? Tonight probably isn't the best time. There is one video I think you should look at, though. The teaching video. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

"I have time now, I'm sure it won't take an hour."

"It won't," said Doctor Jang, "I'll leave you to it."

He placed down the sheet of paper, and Taeil looked it over as the elder walked out of the room. It had the room he needed to go to, in addition to a remote entrance to use. He set it aside and looked through his things for the pen drive, which he soon found in his laptop's bag. The psychiatrist opened the files and found the correct video. He hit himself gently, trying to make himself more alert. The lack of sleep was catching up on him. When he clicked the video, he jumped upon realizing it had had sound and turned it down, but not enough to he drowned in silence.

There was a woman—the young one from the first video, Taeil assumed—who set the camera on the surface. She was in the room which he recognized as Taeyong's bedroom from when he was in the orphanage.

_"Taeyong, come here."_

The psychiatrist couldn't help but smile as the young boy ran into the frame. His jaw almost dropped when he climbed onto the woman's lap and hugged her, burying his face into her. She was stroking the back of his head almost reassuringly, and Taeil realized that was likely why he found the action so comforting. Nonetheless, he was surprised. He didn't know that Taeyong actually got close to anybody in the orphanage.

 _"This is Lee Taeyong. He's almost eleven years old, but he struggles to communicate verbally and experienced traumatic events throughout his early life. It's been_ _six months since he was found."_

She gently tapped the boy's shoulder and his arms loosened around her. When she pointed at the camera, telling him to look, he turned around to face it. Taeil was sure he was grinning like a fool. He hadn't changed much. A moment later, he turned back to the woman who chuckled.

_"You don't like it?"_

He shook his head. The woman continued to laugh quietly and the psychiatrist could tell she genuinely cared about him. Her eyes gave it all away. He felt somewhat relieved that Taeyong had experienced some positivity.

_"I've been able to get close to him for a little over a month. We've done some simple language tests, but he still shows hesitance to speak. He can't read or write and has shown no interest in learning either skill. But we did find one thing which he seems to like."_

The woman reached for something, still keeping her arm securely wrapped around Taeyong so he wouldn't fall. He was small for his age, but even then, he was still ten-years-old, so he wasn't the smallest child. The woman soon lifted up a book. She showed it to the camera and Taeil paused the video. It was a drawing. There were three—poorly drawn—dogs on the left side of the page. There were a few trees, merely simple green circles with a brown trunk. Besides the dogs, there was a drawing of a woman. It was obvious that it was his mother. There were other animals in the background, but both Taeyong and his father were absent from the drawing.

_"Drawings can actually be quite helpful at conveying what a child is feeling. Even the side of the page gives us an insight into what might be going on up there."_

She tapped Taeyong's head gently and he giggled.

_"But there's an obvious flaw in the drawing. Taeyong isn't there. It's just his mother and the animals. His father is also not in the photo, which shows that the conflict between them is still on his mind. The fact that he primarily draws on the left side of the page could also tell us that he's still caught up in the past."_

The woman ruffled his hair, setting the book down beside them. Taeil paid close attention as she moved Taeyong back slightly, allowing them to make eye contact.

_"Are you alright? I can feel you shaking."_

He nodded. Almost immediately, he hugged her again and she smiled softly. She began to flick through the book.

_"There are other drawings, but they're mostly similar. However, there was one... here it is."_

Taeyong made a noise of disproval as the woman removed his arms from her and lifted him from her lap. Sitting on the ground, the boy pulled his legs up. The woman showed another drawing to the camera. Taeil didn't bother to pause the video that time around.

_"Who's this?"_

Taeyong pointed to himself. The drawing was peculiar. Taeil didn't know anything about child psychology, so he waited quietly as though the people in the video could hear him, expecting some kind of explanation.

_"Why did you draw yourself so small and everybody else so much bigger?"_

The boy clearly didn't know how to respond. He looked at the book and back to the woman. The psychiatrist furrowed his eyebrows. Taeyong mumbled but he had to be asked again.

_"M-More important."_

_"They're more important than you? Why?"_

_"Papa said."_

The woman reached out for him, stroking the back of his head again. The boy hugged her again and she chuckled, turning him around so he would face the camera. His gaze immediately shied away from the device's view. She picked up a stack of cards, and with her arms around Taeyong, she held them so he could see.

_"Look at these. You've proved to me that you can count to fifteen, haven't you? Can you count these cards?"_

Taeil watched as the young boy took them from her grasp and looked at them. He placed one down on his leg, leaving them in silence for a moment.

_"One."_

He looked at the woman and she nodded, prompting him to continue.

_"Two... t-three."_

Even though he wasn't there, the psychiatrist couldn't help but feel proud, even when it really wasn't a hard task. _Especially_ for a ten-year-old. Young Taeyong continued to count, pausing slightly between each number and occasionally mumbling rather than saying it properly. If anybody was to see Taeil's grinning, they'd think he was weird for sure.

_"Fifteen."_

_"Can you try and go further for me?"_

There was a long pause. Taeyong looked at the card, glaring at it as though it was the one challenging him. _"S-Sixteen."_

_"That's great! Keep going."_

He placed another down. _"Seventeen."_

_"Any more?"_

The boy shook his head, frowning.

_"You did a good job! Can you read the actual card?"_

That seemed to be a challenge. Taeyong's gaze was fixed on the card. He squinted slightly, trying to see if it would help. Taeil raised an eyebrow as he looked at the card more closely. Rather than just shaking his head, he _was_ trying. But whether that was positive or not was another matter. Eventually, his arm dropped, disheartened. He shook his head hesitantly.

_"It's alright, we can work on it. Should we finish here for now? Do you want to go outside?"_

Watching as the boy nodded his head eagerly, the psychiatrist laughed. Perhaps he wasn't always as cold towards people, and it seemed his coldness was beginning to fade, likely thanks to Mark's interference. But being in Daehak would probably reverse everything. Taeil paused the video. It hadn't finished, it actually seemed to total almost an hour rather than the shorter introductory video, likely from different attempts at teaching Taeyong other skills. But the psychiatrist had a session, so he had to stop there, making a mental note to return to the videos when he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to Google some strange stuff for this story. I feel like I've got so much random knowledge taking up all of my brain space lmao. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	11. The Cost of Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kun makes a move to get himself out of prison. Taeil takes Taeyong for his long-awaited neurological examination. Mark meets somebody who he wanted to avoid, even if they want to make amends.

Prison always had a certain chill to it. The dark hallways, cold stone floor, and the sparsely decorated cells. Kun never would have guessed that he'd have ended up in prison for murder. His family lost interest in him, he was sure his boyfriend was terrified of him, and he was hated by everybody in the prison. Yet, he sat at a table during free time, his eyes fixed on the cold metal table as he hummed a slow, quiet tune. It was almost as though he had an invisible barrier, spanning a meter radius around him. Nobody sat in front or behind him, nor did they sit beside him. The wall beside him gave him that little bit of security that he needed.

In his hand, a small silver piece of metal looked back up at him. The sharpened edge was captivating him. He listened to the quiet talking in the room as he looked around. There weren't many people alone. He sighed, looking back at the metal. He put it in the pocket of his prison overalls, bringing his hand back up to the table to see it shaking. His knuckles were bruised and scarred, and his face was just as bad. There was a feeling lingering in the pit of his stomach that he recognized so well. He stood up, making his way towards the large opening in the wall as a warden watched him. He walked over to the man who held out his arm to prevent him from leaving the room.

"You have to stay in here until everybody is finished eating, sit down."

"I'm only going to the bathroom," the prisoner replied.

The warden raised his eyebrow, looking across to his colleague. They shared a momentary gaze. Kun simply stood waiting, before the warden sneered, giving in. "Fine. Make it quick."

The prisoner grinned, walking through the opening. He turned down a hallway and looked back to make sure nobody was following him. There was _one_ prisoner—a small, feeble-looking young man who was clearly nervous. He must have been new. One person wouldn't be so bad. He needed somebody to be there. He walked into the bathroom, shuffling until his back was against the wall, and waited. The tight grip on the metal in his hand softened and he looked at it one final time.

As much as his mind was leaning towards grabbing somebody and indulging in his murderous urges, that wasn't the plan. He couldn't stay in prison. When he decided to leave, he was clear on what route he'd take. Luckily for him, the wardens hardly care what went on in the workhouse, so he managed to pocket the metal, a piece of refuse from a project, and sharpened it. It wouldn't take much. Just one infliction could send him straight out of prison, and into a far more reasonable location. With his free hand, he traced the tip of the blade and sunk down onto the ground.

Footsteps were getting closer. It was all going to plan. He waited, ready to act, as the outer door opened, and before the second door opened, he jammed the metal into his flesh. He drew a sharp breath, clenching his fist. He let out a quiet groan as he pulled the metal out, allowing blood to seep through his clothes. It certainly hurt. He closed his eyes as he heard the door creak, his breathing staggered as eyes fell onto him. There was a gasp. Shortly afterward, the door opened again and he heard shouting from behind the wall. A small grin appeared through the pain.

He did all he could; now it was down to luck.

* * *

Taeyong turned his head from where he was lying, sprawled on the ground rather than on the mattress in the corner of the room. He found the floor more comfortable than the incredibly stiff mattress. Upon seeing Taeil walk in, he turned back to the ceiling. He knew the psychiatrist didn't pose any risk to him.

"Taeyong, I need to take you to see a neurologist. He's managed to make time for you."

"When?"

"Now," Taeil replied, "did nobody tell you?"

"No?"

He could tell from the patient's tone that he was already nervous. Whether it was because he'd finally get a diagnosis that he could trust or because he'd have to meet somebody unfamiliar was beyond Taeil's understanding.

"It won't be bad. He'll just ask you some questions and do some simple tests."

"Will you be there?"

"I'll be right by your side the entire time, don't worry."

Taeyong seemed to think, sitting up. "Can I see Mark afterward?"

"I'll try to arrange it. But you have to behave, then. No biting, no snapping, or whatever else you do. Listen to the Doctor but don't hesitate to tell him if you don't like something."

"Does that mean I get to go outside?"

"When we walk to the car, you can get some air."

The patient immediately became more cheerful, standing up. At least he'd have some fresh air. Taeil looked back at the door, waiting for it to open. When it did, Doctor Jang walked in with the patient's crutch and walked over to where he was, handing it to him. "Try to be good—for Mark."

Taeyong nodded. He stepped forward, edging toward the door as both psychiatrists walked in the direction. When they reached the door, Taeil got ahold of the patient's arm to make sure he didn't run or fall. Luckily, due to the padded cells being in an isolated area, there weren't any other patients to throw snarky comments their way. They waited as the door was locked, and Doctor Jang stopped walking.

"Call me if anything happens. It shouldn't take too long," he said.

The patient's attention was drifting as Taeil nodded. He looked down the hallway, eyes widening as he saw the doctor that threatened him staring right at him. His heart immediately began to speed up. The psychiatrist looked at the patient in his grasp as Doctor Jang checked his work phone. He was taken aback by the abrupt panic from Taeyong, he looked down the hallway where he was looking. Upon seeing Doctor Hak, he assumed he still felt bad. Looking back to Doctor Jang, he realized he'd also noticed the patient's strange behavior and looked at the supervisor suspiciously and then back to Taeyong.

"Shouldn't you be going?" asked Doctor Hak, "You don't want to be late."

"Right," Taeil hummed, "Taeyong, let's go?"

The patient couldn't have moved any faster given the condition of his body, but he certainly tried. As they walked away, Doctor Jang called out, telling them to enter the hospital through the back. Taeil let out a sigh as Taeyong pulled him.

"He's not angry if that's what you're worried about. Far worse has happened here—not to say that biting and hitting somebody isn't bad."

"I'm not worried," he muttered.

The psychiatrist frowned. "You don't have to act like you're not worried. It's natural."

Taeyong stayed quiet. He couldn't risk Taeil finding out about Boa's visit. He wanted to see her again. They came to a pause, waiting for the elevator—as it was faster—and the patient took his free hand and held it over his upper-arm. He could still feel that the flesh was tender and bruised. With his eyes clenched shut, he held his breath. He wanted to tell Taeil what happened, but he wanted to see Boa again. The woman had been his only emotional support in the orphanage, though he thought she abandoned him at one point.

When they stepped into the elevator, the patient clung to the bars once again. Taeil unintentionally laughed at him as he stood looking as though he was about to walk on ice for the first time, legs tensed as he tried to keep balance. Taeyong didn't seem to care about the laughing, paying more attention to the moving elevator. His face dropped for a moment when it jerked slightly as the door opened, gripping tighter onto the bar.

He felt the wind of the outside world when he stepped out, cautiously placing his crutch down on the stable ground. Taeyong remembered being dragged through there when they separated him from Mark. Just remembering the endeavor brought a frown to his face. Taeil urged him forward, and when they walked past a woman at the main desk, he smiled at her. "He's leaving on official authorization, I won't need to sign for him."

She nodded, allowing them to continue. The door opened without the psychiatrist even touching it, which left Taeyong gawking quietly. He'd always had to open them himself. When the wind hit him, he shivered, but nonetheless, he took in a deep breath to savor the moment. Fresh air; simple, yet a thousand times better than the air that was ferried through the roof piping. He almost didn't notice Taeil turned until he felt a tug on his arm.

"My car's over here, come on. I can open the window for you if you'd like?"

* * *

When they eventually arrived in the hospital, Taeyong didn't expect to be lead down a quiet hallway and into a small room. He scanned the small space as he sat down with Taeil beside him. There were leaflets on the wall, none of which he could even read, and simply a small table with five chairs dotted around the room. They were the only ones. Sat in silence, the patient resorted to his nervous habit of fiddling with his hands and sleeve as they waited. When the door did open, Taeyong looked up. Beside him, Taeil stood up, bowing at the man. The psychiatrist turned to him and was relieved to find the patient wasn't panicking.

"So, would you both like to come in? I don't mind if that'll make you more comfortable to be here."

Taeyong immediately nodded, turning to Taeil. The latter chuckled quietly, "I suppose that's a yes."

The patient made him walk in first, still nervous, even if the neurologist didn't look like a threat. The room was larger than he imagined—given the size of the waiting room—and looked less intimidating, even if it still had the scent of a hospital which Taeyong turned his nose up at. Once he sat down, the neurologist's eyes were on him, and he tried to move as far away from him as he could, given that he was still sat on the chair. Taeil noticed and gave the patient a gentle nudge.

"So, Lee Taeyong. It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Doctor Jeong."

The other merely nodded, turning to Taeil. The latter gave him a reassuring smile, but Taeyong was expecting the psychiatrist to do all of the talking. He huffed.

"He's not really that talkative," the elder warned.

"Taeyong, I'll need you to talk to me so I can diagnose your problem," said the man.

The patient let out a gentle sigh, watching the doctor sat before him.

"Well, should we get straight into it? So, first of all, can you tell me your first concern and when it began?"

"In the hospital," Taeyong replied, "my sight in my left eye was weird and I was shaking, but I thought it was because of the..."

"Overdose?" Taeil questioned, realizing that the patient likely didn't know what it was called.

"I think."

Doctor Jeong hummed. "How was your left eye weird? Can you describe it to me?"

"It was like... less. Like a piece of my eye was missing."

"I understand what you mean. You couldn't see as much as usual—" the man made a gesture, holding up his two hands, "—like one hand was gone from your sight?"

Taeyong nodded.

"What about now? Has it gotten better? Stayed the same?"

"Worse," the patient replied, "I can't see from my left eye."

"At all?"

"Pretty much, but it's not black. It gets really bright sometimes," Taeyong replied.

"Did you lose the sight slowly, over time?"

There was a momentary pause. "It took a while, but I didn't really notice until it was almost gone completely."

"Do you know when that was?"

"I was with Mark," he turned to Taeil, hoping for some help with the question.

"Do you think it was as long as a year ago?" asked the psychiatrist.

"Maybe a bit less. It wasn't quick. I think it was this year."

"An estimation will suffice, I don't need an exact day. When was the overdose?"

"Three years ago, around late September. I don't have the file with me right now, but I assume you have access to it?" asked Taeil.

"I should do later, but this was rushed," Doctor Jeong replied. "So, shaking—has that persisted?"

"I don't realize it anymore, but it still happens."

The doctor nodded, holding out his hand. "Can you show me your hands? Just palm down, above the desk."

Taeyong obliged, lifting his hands from under the table. He held his hands for a few moments as Doctor Jeong looked, and held onto the patient's hands.

"There's definitely something there. Is it constant?"

"I don't know, I've started to ignore it."

"That's alright," the Doctor nodded, "if you've grown used to it, it's fair to say it's consistent."

"So... is it serious?" asked Taeyong, looking up from the table to observe the doctor's expression.

"I can't say yet, we've hardly scratched the surface. For the most part, the sitting still talking part is over, we can move onto the actual examination," he said. "We can start easy. Please stand up, Taeyong, and follow me."

The patient turned to Taeil, who simply signaled for him to follow the man. Taeyong hesitantly stood up, about to pick up his crutch, but Doctor Jeong shook his head and told him that he'd have to do without.

"I need you to stand here, on this line on the ground. Okay? Stand as still as you can, and when I say so, please close your eyes."

The patient carefully walked over, standing on the black line with a sigh. He didn't feel like being tested. But he'd rather know what was going on, and at least figure out how long he could be with Mark.

"Close your eyes," said the doctor, "I'm going to gently push your arm, and I want you to push against me to stay upright—alright?"

"I suppose," Taeyong muttered, closing his eyes.

When he felt the gentle push on his arm, he held his breath, pushing against the force. It wasn't particularly hard. He wondered if there was any point to any of it. The doctor changed to the other side, startling Taeyong, but he refrained from reacting. After another push, he felt the man's hand on his back. Ignoring the worries playing with his mind, he gulped, clenching his eyes further shut as was possible. He knew he was being watched, he could feel Doctor Jeong and Taeil's stares. There was a panic rising for a moment, but then—

"You can open your eyes now."

Taeyong's eyes shot open, and he looked down at his hands. As he looked up, his gaze met the psychiatrist's concerned one for a moment, but he shifted his attention back to the doctor.

"That was good. Now, stay on the line, and I'd like you to walk over to the other black line on the ground," said Doctor Jeong, stepping back, "it's there, can you see it?"

"I can," said the patient through gritted teeth.

He didn't like it. He didn't like it at _all._ The questions, the touching, being looked down on. He _hated_ it. But he had to withstand it—for Mark.

"Go on, I'll be here if you need me."

It was simple, and Taeyong found himself questioning the validity of the doctor's little tests. He didn't understand what it had to do with solving his problems. Nonetheless, he walked the other line, awkwardly shifting his weight as he was being watched. The hardly walked in a straight line and had to correct himself as he neared the end. The doctor had a frown fixed on his face, but when he realized that the patient was looking his way, it immediately faded.

"Shall we move on?"

* * *

"When can I start?"

The elderly woman stood in front of Mark hummed in thought. "Tomorrow, if that works for you? We struggle with staffing here, we're only a small place. It'd be best to have you on board as soon as possible."

The younger was relieved. Sure, he didn't want to—and _wasn't_ going to—do his community service, but he needed a job so he could support himself and pay for Taeyong's treatment.

"That's good for me," Mark replied, "thanks, uh..."

"You can call me Aeri."

"Thanks, Aeri. I've really struggled to find somewhere that will take me."

"Don't worry about it. Not everybody around here is heartless, you deserve to live as much as everybody else."

"Is this all?" asked Mark, "I've never had a job before."

She nodded. "Come back here at nine tomorrow, and you can help me out for a few hours. I'll see you then."

Mark thought it felt too easy. Nonetheless, he said his parting words and walked out of the small store. He immediately felt the bitter air and sighed. It was only getting colder, and after a moment, he felt something cold on his nose and looked up. It was snowing. He smiled, catching a snowflake on the back of his hand, only for it to disintegrate within seconds.

He missed the excitement of a snow day when he was in school, or how he, Doyoung, Jungwoo, and Lucas had a snowball fight one winter and almost hit a passerby as they minded their own business. There was hardly a thin layer of the cold substance on the ground, but he hoped it would build up. Even if he couldn't enjoy simple pleasures anymore, he at least wanted to enjoy a snowy winter.

"Mark? Is that you?" asked a familiar voice, making him briskly snap his head in the direction of the voice.

Mark felt his body run cold. He tried not to show any response, but the woman edged closer to him and he gritted his teeth. "Do you mind?"

"Oh my God! It _is_ you! You're back?"

"Don't pretend to be friendly with me when you kicked me out."

His mother frowned, looking down at the path. "Don't be like that..."

"Like what? Unforgiving? You disowned me because of who I love!"

"Do you still love him?"

"Of course I do!"

She fell silent. A sigh slipped out of her lips as she looked around, people seemed to be minding their own business for once. "I regretted it, Mark. I regretted pushing you away like I did and disregarding your opinions. But still... you were a child. _My_ child, and I was scared to death when you left with him."

"I don't want to hear it," Mark muttered.

"Wait!" his mother called out, watching as he turned away, "I got a divorce from your father."

Mark turned back around, eyes wide. "What?"

"I couldn't stand how he talked about you. And the drinking... it only got worse. I don't know what he's doing now, but I think your uncle was getting him help."

"But... you loved him."

"Feelings change. It was obvious that he was losing feelings, too. It wasn't really surprising, it was almost as if we just withstood each other."

He couldn't help but feel somewhat guilty, even if he didn't see why it was a bad thing. They never acted as close as other people's parents, such as Doyoung's while his father was still around.

"Where's _he?_ Is he with you?"

"Why do you care?" Mark spat.

She sighed, looking dishearteded. "Because you're still my son, I want to be involved in your life again."

"Forget it."

"Mark!" she whined, "Please, son. I regret everything that happened the last time we spoke. About him, too. I'm ready to accept it how it is."

"You can't even say his name!"

"Just listen! I'll forget the past, you're an adult now. You can date who you want, like who you want, whatever. I'll turn a blind eye to his past, too."

Mark felt frustrated and enraged. He didn't go through all of that—and nor did Taeyong—for her to come crawling back for her son. "You don't want to, you're forcing yourself to act like you care."

"Please, Mark. I don't want to lose anybody else. Let me prove that I do care."

* * *

Taeyong was feeling exhausted, even if he hadn't _really_ done much. He assumed it was his constant nerves that were draining his energy. He let himself zone out as Doctor Jeong pointed a light into his eye, shifting from side to side.

"Can you follow the light with your right eye? Keep your head nice and still."

"How will this help?"

"We're almost done, please just follow it."

Taeyong sighed bitterly, obliging to get it over and done with. He wanted to rest in the quiet, even if it meant ge had to be locked up in the padded cell again. When Doctor Jeong eventually turned the light off, he moved back and crossed his arms in frustration.

"That's it for those tests. Now a question for you, Doctor Moon," said the neurologist, "has he recently had a blood test?"

"He has when the detectives took him to the hospital."

Taeyong didn't enjoy that. He never did. He'd had his blood taken before, but infrequently enough for him to hate it severely, even if it hardly hurt.

"Any problems there?"

"An iron deficiency and a minor vitamin B12 deficiency."

"That isn't surprising. I suppose you don't remember about his white blood cell count or anything of the sort?" asked the neurologist.

"I don't, I was trying to focus on fixing his diet and advising the cooks."

"That's alright, I can get the file up. I have that one, at least. While we wait, I'd like to organize another appointment for him. I'll need to confirm a few things, so Taeyong will have to come back for two things," he explained. "First, an MRI scan to get a good look at his spine, and then afterward, I'd like to have a sample of his cerebrospinal fluid, but I'll need his permission for that."

They both turned to Taeyong, and, puzzled, he simply looked back at them. "What?"

"It's a procedure which will mean a doctor will take some fluid from your spine with a needle to do some tests."

"Does it hurt?"

"You'll have local anesthetic, it numbs the pain. You shouldn't feel much, but you might have a slight headache afterward. Nothing serious."

Taeyong turned to Taeil. "Should I do it?"

"It's up to you."

"Your results may come quicker with this information. When they're back, I'll visit you at the psychiatric institution rather than having you trail here."

"Well," said the patient, "if it will tell me what's going on, then yes."

"It will help. Are you sure?" asked Doctor Jeong.

He nodded.

"Just so it's down in writing, can you sign a piece of paper once it's printed?"

"My writing isn't good—"

"It's just your name, it doesn't need to be perfect," he said, "can you read?"

"No..."

The doctor nodded. "Doctor Moon, would you be able to read the sheet out to him, so he knows what he's agreeing to?"

"That's fine with me."

* * *

_"Taeyong," Mark called, watching as the elder dragged himself along the road in front of him._

_He hadn't stopped. He wouldn't. Even if he wanted to, they'd catch up to them eventually. It had only been a few days, and they'd seen a search team sniffing around where they weren't welcome. The elder had been quiet. Mark hated how he couldn't read Taeyong, no matter how hard he tried._

_"Taeyong," he repeated, with more desperation slipping through his tone, "please just talk to me, I'm worried about you."_

_Mark remembered the events of two days earlier, on the day after they disappeared from the police's radar. Their first thought for their journey was, obviously, to rest. There wasn't much of an option of where to stay, so they slept outside, in the forest. The younger could hardly sleep, but when he eventually did, he soon woke up._

_It wasn't the case of a simple "good morning", or a "did you sleep well?", he woke up, and Taeyong was already awake. The crunching of leaves and twigs pulled him out of his slumber, and he looked up to see the elder stood with a damaged and torn bag in his hands, and furrowed his eyebrows as his eyes adjusted to the dim sunlight. They were both filthy, and the elder was still injured, though they'd wrapped his leg with a spare t-shirt that was left in Mark's backpack. He sat up, confused, and startled Taeyong, who looked at him with his usual, unreadable expression._

_"What's that?" he recalled asking._

_The elder didn't respond, but Mark wasn't ready to accept silence as an answer, but when he looked at the patient's hands, he remembered how his heart felt as though it dropped out of his chest._

_"Blood?" he had muttered, "Taeyong, what's that? Where did you get that stuff?"_

_Once again, nothing. Mark had pulled the bag out of his hands and immediately regretted it. Above boxes, cloth, and other necessities such as food, there was a bloody mass of cloth. He'd pulled it out to see a pocket knife, smothered in the substance. Taeyong stared back at him when he looked up, wiping the blood from his hands. "We need to survive, Mark, no matter what."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a new chapter (sorry for the wait!). There's a lot going on currently, so I've been a little all over the place. But I _should_ be back now, I hope. Also, new formatting! I haven't changed Death Pact's formatting, since there's a lot of chapters. Anyhow, I'll try to start weakly updates again (not a fixed day, though, but I usually aim for Friday.


	12. Silent Crimes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeyong isn't the only one keeping secrets, Detective Kim and Detective Ahn have incriminating evidence from open murder cases. Mark discusses his worries with Doyoung and Jaehyun. Flashbacks open old wounds for Taeyong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A surprise update!
> 
> Please refer to the warnings in the tags before proceeding, potentially triggering content ahead.

"How many times have I told you?" asked Mark's mother, prompting the police officers who were sat at their desks to turn around, "I'm not going behind my son's back! That's why he hated me to begin with!"

"Please calm down," Detective Kim spoke quietly, "this is for his own safety."

"How can I believe you when Lee Taeyong had kept him alive for all this time? If he was a hazard, he'd have already harmed my son! You won't tell me why Mark is in danger. I won't believe you, I need proof. If you can't give me any—don't ask me to help you again."

The detective sighed, and the onlookers had mixed expressions. Anybody could understand where she was coming from. Even if there had been struggles in the past, she was still Mark's mother, and they were already in a touchy situation, anyway.

"I can't reveal any—"

"Then, we're done here. I'll be leaving now, detective."

When the woman walked out of the room, Detective Kim turned around to see one of his colleagues stood leaning on the doorframe to his office, with a mocking smile. The former walked over. They'd have to come up with a new plan.

"You've become rusty," the other joked.

Detective Ahn, who also happened to be his old partner in the force, was the one who discovered Taeyong first. Detective Kim had held with Mr Lee before he returned to help with the terrified boy. "I know, I don't work as well as I used to. We've lost our plan."

"Well, there was always a risk of her refusing. At least we've given them a little reunion. She may change her mind," he said, walking into the office.

"Probably not." Detective Kim closed the door.

"Let's get thinking then. I hate to say this—but, should we maybe consider sharing the information we have?"

"Not happening."

Detective Ahn frowned, but he saw it coming. "If the public knew—"

"No," Detective Kim interjected, "I haven't even told Taeil. Our trust is hanging on by a thin thread as is."

"Your trust? There's _literally_ a murderer out there, wreaking further havoc in a psychiatric facility."

"I hate this case," the younger muttered, "how can you separate the image of that tiny child in a barn from the adult he's become?"

"It's not easy, but I've seen the case photos enough to grasp the reality."

Detective Kim reached for the file on the desk and pulled it open. He eventually managed to find the small stack of photographs and took them out. The first showed a young woman who was found in the forests of Gwangmyeong-si. It was discovered that she was strangled before being stabbed by a small blade, and at the scene, more than her blood was found. With the help of contained DNA from the initial investigation, it was soon confirmed that the strange blood was almost a one-hundred percent match to Taeyong's.

The body was found mere days after Mark and Taeyong "escaped", but the detective kept it from Taeil. He knew the psychiatrist would have refused to help if he knew that there was another open investigation and that the patient would be charged. He'd had enough with Kun and Yuta. But that wasn't all. Weeks later, another body was found. A while after, there was another. The second time, there were bloodied fingerprints, but the third, there wasn't any DNA, but it was in the same area.

"Part of me still hopes it's all a misunderstanding," said Detective Kim, "you know, when we visited him in the orphanage, and he smiled at us... I went home to my ex, and I proposed the idea of adopting him."

Detective Ahn was surprised, to say the least. "You did?"

"She laughed in my face and told me that she didn't want to raise a problem child. And I left it. I should have persisted—"

"What, and introduce him to an unhappy home? Have him sit alone all day while you both worked?"

"I know, you're right. But if he was adopted, maybe he'd have grown into a normal adult. Working, having fun with friends, and starting a family."

"But he might not have. His trauma would have _always_ been there, even if he found a new family."

* * *

Taeyong stood in the water flow, eyes clenched shut as the liquid ran down his body and collided with the cold floor. He held onto a handrail, his legs gently shaking as he shook his head, forcing the water from his hair. He heard and gentle knock on the partition door. "Taeyong? Are you alright?"

He hummed in response, continuing to cling onto the handrail. He was thoroughly glad that it was there, especially since he'd never actually used a shower before.

"I can help you if you need it, you know?"

"But that isn't your job, is it?"

"Well, no," Taeil replied, "but the supervisor understands that you don't exactly trust the nurses yet."

"I don't need help, I'm not a child."

The patient's tone was bitter, but the elder could somewhat understand. It must have been frustrating. "But your—"

"I said, I don't need help," Taeyong snapped.

"Alright, I'm sorry. I don't mean to seem like I'm looking down on you."

There was no response, only the sound of water trickling from the patient's body. Taeil could feel the cold coming from the water. The very thought of the younger being under the water flow made him shiver, but Taeyong wasn't exactly used to crazily hot water, and he certainly didn't seem to care whether or not he was chilled right down to the bone. The water eventually stopped—not without a confused grumble from the patient as he tried to turn off the shower-and the door suddenly creaked open. A hand snuck out of the gap.

Taeil handed him a towel, and Taeyong's hand soon disappeared back beyond the door again. The psychiatrist couldn't help but smile softly. Even if they had misunderstandings, there was never tense air between them. Perhaps the patient trusted him; that made him feel like he'd accomplished something over those years. His hand soon reappeared and swatted around, searching for his clothes. The psychiatrist handed them to him with a chuckle. "Here you go."

After a short while, the door opened. Taeyong stepped out of the partitioned shower, his hair still dripping water onto his forehead and down his back. Holding the towel, he walked over to where his shoes were, set aside by a bench. Taeil followed after him, catching the younger's attention when he sat down. The patient looked up at him curiously as he took the towel from his lap.

"You can't go back to the cell with your hair all wet," said the psychiatrist, kneeling on the ground, despite the grimy surface ruining his clean coat.

Taeyong looked down as Taeil dried his hair with the towel. He wanted to move away, proclaiming how he could do it himself, but seeing the soft smile on the elder's face, he let him. He even leaned forward to make it easier for him to reach.

"I'll be coming to talk to you tomorrow. Just one of our normal sessions. Also, I'll be asking the supervisor about moving you back into your room. That padded cell won't do you any good. What's it like in there?"

The patient thought, humming. "It's quiet, really quiet. I don't like it. In the old hospital, with... D-Doctor Park, I could hear every little noise, like the floorboards creaking and my own heart sometimes, too... It's boring."

"I'd imagine so."

"About Mark," said Taeyong abruptly, "does he not love me anymore?"

"What?" Taeil almost shouted, "What makes you think that?"

"He didn't want to see me..."

"It's not that he didn't want to. He must have been busy, Taeyong. If he'd have answered the call, he'd have abandoned all of his plans to see you."

"Would he?"

"I promise he would," the psychiatrist replied, "he always asks about how you're doing."

The younger immediately smiled. "Is he happy?"

"It's hard to tell, but I think so."

"You can't tell?" asked Taeyong, "But isn't that part of your job?"

Taeil pulled the towel away from the patient's hair, setting it down on the ground. He was right. He was normally great at reading people, and he used to read Mark well, too. But something changed. The younger became far more reserved, even unsettled, too. "I don't see him much, he's trying to get a job."

"Don't let him work too much."

"I won't."

Taeyong leaned down to put his shoes on, leaving them both in the quiet. Once he slipped them on, he sat up straight and grabbed his crutch from where it was leaning against the wall. "Is it almost lights out?"

"Close, but not yet. Should we head over? I'll talk to the supervisor in the morning."

The patient was about to stand up, but the second he prepared to hold his weight, his stomach cried out for food. Taeil looked alarmed, but soon let out a chuckle.

"Right, you haven't eaten. Let's stop off at the kitchen, I'll ask the cooks to get you something to eat."

"Is it far?"

"No, it's only down the hallway. You remember the room with the balcony, right? It's across from there. If you don't want to walk it, I can take you back to the cell and bring you food."

"No!" the younger exclaimed, "Can I eat outside of the white room?"

"Taeyong, I'm not permitted to—"

"Let him," a voice spoke from the door.

"Doctor Hak," said Taeil, though it was more of a question.

"Some freedom will do him good, won't it?" he said, looking at the tense patient, "I heard you were taking a while, so I came to make sure everybody was safe."

Taeyong sighed, tightly gripping onto the handle of his crutch. He hated that man. He made him feel so small, weak... powerless. But he was the only way to see Boa.

"Of course we're both safe," said the psychiatrist, but his voice became quiet, "I don't mean that in a disrespectful way."

"I didn't think so, Doctor Moon. Shall we go?"

Taeil wanted to question about the "we", but he didn't want to seem as argumentative as he'd been coming across as recently. He assumed the supervisor wanted to _actually_ do his job of supervising what happened on the ward. After all, patients hadn't been allowed to wander outside of their rooms in a while. The walk was short, as the psychiatrist said, and when they arrived at the small room, Taeyong looked at the counter lining the back wall. It almost reminded him of the orphanage. There were some tables, but they were all empty. Taeil soon led him over to one in the center of the room.

"Wait here, I'll be back," he said.

The patient looked back at him with an expression that was clearly showing a great amount of fear. Taeil turned to look as Doctor Hak sat down on the table. "I'll wait with him. We wouldn't want him to feel overwhelmed, would we?"

"Right," the psychiatrist replied, after some hesitation, "thank you."

"Go on, get him some food. He must be hungry after all of that prodding at the hospital today."

If Taeil had looked at the table even a second longer than he had, he'd have seen how Taeyong froze up when the supervisor's hand gently tapped his shoulder. The patient stared at the table in front of him, his hand slipping under his sleeve. They hadn't arrived back quick early enough for the ward's medical staff to be working still, and couldn't get any new arm wraps. The patient clawed at his arm, attention drifting as the doctor beside him clearly watched him.

"How has the ward been so far?" he asked, looking over to Taeil as the psychiatrist talked to one of the cooks, "I bet it's been thrilling, right? Did you enjoy injuring me and my staff? I bet it's all you could ever ask for; people to throw around at your own leisure. Like father like son, huh?"

Taeyong hardly noticed how the doctor put on a concerned facade, he was preoccupied with his racing mind. He was suddenly tapped on the hand gently, and he gulped as his chair was briskly turned, scratching against the ground. But everything seemed faint. But it didn't feel like the last time. One thing felt familiar, though, how his chest tightened and how his breath seemed to be snatched right out of his lungs.

 _"You're like a little version of your father, you know that? He was a filthy man. You're a product of that filth,"_ Taeyong felt his breath hitch as he looked down at his hands, at the blood smeared across his thin, small fingers. _"It's my job to make sure you don't become that filth, and I won't accept failure."_

His vision was blurry and distorted, but he could easily tell Doctor Park's face from anywhere. The man's lips curved up into an unnerving smile.

_"Do you know what happens to bad boys like you? Should I show you?"_

He couldn't move. Taeyong felt a lump form at the back of his throat, his eyes wandering as a hand reached out for him, gently running over his cheek before his face was grabbed aggressively. All he could do was let out a quiet, pitiful whimper as Doctor Park's spare hand slipped under the black t-shirt he was wearing. He spat out a cry and heard somebody calling his name. It felt so... far. Unreachable. And _desperate_. He blinked, and everything was dark; even once he opened his eyes. The darkness made him uneasy.

He was looking straight ahead when his sensations came flooding back. His face felt damp, and tears were streaming down his face. His chest heaved-in, and out, in again, and then out once more. His body felt cold, and he could feel it aggressively trembling. He saw Taeil from his right eye, kneeling in front of him, in the darkness. His hand was being squeezed, though not enough to hurt. He looked down, squeezing the psychiatrist's hand back. It was more of a way for him to remind himself that he was really there, but it also alerted the older male that he was responsive. Taeil let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God," he muttered, "focus on your breathing, just like I taught you."

Taeyong almost immediately complied, carefully—albeit very quickly—taking in a deep breath. He felt the elder's thumb caress his hand softly and let out a shaky breath, his cries slipping through. A sheepish noise escaped through the patient's struggles to stop himself from embarrassing himself. He clenched his eyes shut and sniffled as Taeil reassured him. Taeyong wept as he felt a warm hand on the side of his head, gently running his fingers through his bushy hair. The patient subconsciously leaned his head closer to the psychiatrist's hand, trying to fight through the tightness he felt in his chest, breathing as slowly as he could.

"It's alright, breathe. You've got this. You're safe."

Taeyong closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath. At first, it always felt impossible, but through persistence, he eventually managed to stabilize his breathing. The distraction was enough for the tears to slow and eventually stop. It was a while after the worst of the symptoms subsided when Taeil took his hand away from the patient's hair but still held his hand tightly. Taeyong opened his eyes, already missing the warmth of the psychiatrist's hand, and followed the elder's gaze as he turned around. He was half expecting the strange doctor to be there, but instead, it was Doctor Jang. The patient's breathing continued to improve, but it was still hitching every now and again.

"That was..."

"Worse than last time," Doctor Jang completed Taeil's sentence. "Taeyong, how are you feeling?"

"Tired," he replied, plainly, "can I... skip eating?"

"The cooks have warmed your portion up for you, are you sure you don't want to eat?"

Taeyong took his hand away from Taeil's, instead wiping his face with his hands, he looked down at his lap with a frown. He still felt off, like something wasn't right.

"Doctor Moon, how about I carry his plate to his cell, and you help him walk there? He can pick at it if he likes, then we're not wasting the cook's hard work, either."

"I won't take it personally," said a woman from the darkness, prompting Taeyong to look up. "Here, some tissue. He can clean himself up in the staff bathrooms in the kitchen if that would help."

"Do you want to?"

There was nothing but silence on the patient's behalf, and a light was turned on across the room. He heard movement beside him but didn't bat an eyelid. But something caught his attention. "Taeyong, are you with us?"

"Would it help if I waited in the kitchen?" asked the cook.

"It isn't you specifically, don't worry. He's still coming out of an episode."

Taeil pulled his arm towards him and dried his hand with some of the tissue before he held his hand again. "Taeyong, we're here with you."

"I-I know."

"Is something wrong?"

All attention was on him. He managed to lift his head, looking past the psychiatrist. He couldn't bear to look him in the eyes. "It just feels like I'm here, and then I'm not."

"That's normal, just try and hold on," the older psychiatrist replied.

"I'm sorry to ask this," Taeil turned to the cook, "but, if you wouldn't mind, could you bring a damp cloth?"

"Of course, I'll be right back."

"Good call," said Doctor Jang, "that might be helpful."

Taeyong's grip tightened on Taeil's hand, and he breathed quietly. It felt like he was fighting against himself. Maybe he really was—maybe his younger self was trying to resurface. The very thought sent the patient into a spiral of thoughts.

_"You're naive, thinking people actually want to help you."_

He wasn't prepared to let the memories drag him back down again. His whole body shuddered as his grip loosened on the psychiatrist's hand and the latter looked up in surprise. He was _trying_. But maybe it would all be in vain.

_"Whatever happens, Tae, you have to be strong. You have to be fierce."_

His mother. Taeyong almost felt her smooth, warm hand ruffle his hair. He was confused. The memories, all of them, they were there. Infecting his mind. Some of them, he didn't mind, but most of them...

_"We need to survive, no matter what."_

* * *

A long sigh escaped Taeil's lips as he closed the door to the patted cell. Doctor Jang was stood beside him, clearly also exhausted. The latter looked through the reinforced glass window to the room and looked at the pitiful patient lying beside his mattress—rather than on it—with the untouched plate of food a mere meter away from him. "We can't keep putting this back, we need a diagnosis and some treatment. But right now, we have something else to talk about."

"We do?"

"Yes. Haven't you noticed that something is strange?"

"You mean aside from this whole situation? Not particularly."

Doctor Jang turned away, shaking his head slowly. "Am I misreading things?"

"Can I have some elaboration?"

"Do you not think that Doctor Hak has been rather nosy about Taeyong?"

"He's always like that. I have another patient on this floor, and he's always checked up on us."

The elder hummed, walking towards his office. "But, think about it. Rushing the assessment, somehow being attacked by Taeyong, appearing this morning, and finally, Taeyong had an episode in his company."

"Maybe he reminds him of Doctor Park, I mean, Doctor Hak must be a similar age to what he was back then, don't you think?"

"Can I remind you that Taeyong had a severe episode and then dissociated, almost right afterward?"

"I understand what you mean, but he insisted that he just felt guilty about attacking Doctor Hak."

"Enough to cause that?"

Taeil paused, looking back at the door to the padded room. "Do you think he'd hide something like that from us?"

"Are you _sure_ you're qualified? Did you really just ask that question?"

"Well, is this just a speculation, or do you have proof that something is going on?"

"It's speculation, for now. I don't want to ask Taeyong outright, because if my suspicions are true, he might be in the line of fire, if you get what I mean."

"He could be in danger. For telling us, that is," Taeil replied. "Now that I think about it, Doctor Hak did disappear pretty quickly once I realized Taeyong was panicking."

"Now, back to the diagnosis. Obviously, we can't be sure. It takes more than just speculation to diagnose somebody. We need to continue observing him, but I think we're both thinking along the same lines, right? Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder seems rather viable at the moment."

The younger nodded. "Given all of the circumstances, I agree."

"It just so happens that his upbringing caused some troublesome behaviors. You mentioned that Taeyong started using violence to _protect_ himself, right?"

"He told me himself. He hit his father back because he was scared, that behavior was amplified when Doctor Park... you know."

"It isn't surprising, really," Doctor Jang sighed, "I'm sure you and I would be the same."

* * *

Like usual, Doyoung opened his door for Mark when the younger arrived at his apartment—looking less than enthusiastic—and he came inside silently, only to collapse in a heap on the couch. Both Doyoung and Jaehyun looked at him in confusion. The latter kicked his leg gently. "Welcome?"

"Has something happened?"

Though Mark was seconds away from saying _"no shit"_ , he refrained from letting the words escape. He couldn't just go to them for guidance and then act like an entitled brat. "Something good and something potentially bad."

"Start with the good one," said Doyoung, sitting down beside Jaehyun.

"I've got a job. Just in a small shop, it's quiet enough to _not_ ruin my entire life."

"What about the pay? Is it decent?"

"Enough to feed me a meal per day, but I might need to get another job, too."

The older friend sent him his pitiful expression, sighing. "You're not still resisting Taeil's help, are you?"

"I'm being independent. You always told me, Jungwoo, and Lucas that we had to trust ourselves, and only ourselves."

"I wasn't being serious, it was just edgy teen talk. I still get help off of my mother, and I trust Jaehyun. Even Taeil, I trust him too. But anyway—the potentially bad something?"

"I met my mother, and she's not supposed to know I'm back."

"How is that bad?" asked Jaehyun, "She's your mother, you shouldn't hold a grudge against her."

"Yeah, that's your problem. Your parents obviously hate you, yet you tell yourself they had reasons for abandoning you, their problematic son."

The former patient looked surprised, and sighed quietly, looking down at the ground. Doyoung practically murdered Mark with his gaze, and the latter buried his head in his hands, realizing how that sounded.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"I feel bad for Taeyong. How does he stand you? Do you belittle his past, too?"

"Both of you, quiet. Mark, if you're going to come here and cause trouble, I don't want to see you turn up at my door."

"I mean it, sorry. I've been a bit... forward, lately."

Doyoung was quiet for a moment, and he made eye contact with Jaehyun, who merely shrugged. "Have you talked about it with Taeil?"

"No, why would I?"

"Just... consider it. But back to your mother. I think you should give her a chance to redeem herself."

"That's the thing," said Mark, "she's divorced my father, and she told me she doesn't care who I date... but it doesn't feel right."

"Your parents got divorced?" Doyoung exclaimed, "But they were so good together!"

"When I ran away, I must've caused something."

"Don't blame yourself," Jaehyun added, despite his annoyance at the younger's earlier comment.

"I know I shouldn't, but... it's just a lot to take in."

"That makes sense, you grew up with both of them being there, for the most part."

"I don't regret it, though. I wouldn't change that I ran away if I could. I think we both needed that taste of reality."

Even if the image of Taeyong—with the pocket knife he'd found in somebody's camp—stabbing a man in the neck was engraved into his mind. The reality that not many people could stand. But Mark didn't succumb to that dark reality, he learned to embrace it.

* * *

_"Do you think they'll find us?" asked Mark, nervous as he held his hands over the small fire, "Taeyong, they might—"_

_"Don't."_

_"How can you just... not care? Y-You killed—"_

_"I do care, but I've learned that sacrifices are essential for this world to continue how it is. I understand that now. I'm not like Yuta, I don't do it for fun. I'm doing it so both of us can survive."_

_"There's other ways!"_

_"Once, Yuta told me this," said Taeyong, "when you're born, the only thing that is bound to happen is that you'll die."_

_Mark carefully listen to Taeyong, even if he didn't agree. Such a dark view on life... even he couldn't grasp it._

_"Life is fighting against that death that will happen. There is only life and death in this world, everything else is a lie. Every time somebody dies, a new life takes their place. I don't want to have my place stolen."_

_Mark didn't want it to, but eventually, those words resonated in his mind. Death is inevitable, and life is only the journey to that outcome. What was it all for? Was there really a purpose? He was beginning to think he'd been fed lies his entire life. You_ _aren't born to change the world, or to solve everybody's problems and struggles. In the end, you're only born to die and be forgotten._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't make anyone have an existential crisis at the end there... :)  
> Since I was gone for like... three weeks or so, I decided to update again. This chapter gets sad, but I promise this isn't going to be _all_ depressing, but most of my stories deal with dark topics. If you don't like that, you're probably not reading this, but anyway I just want to warn now for the future: there **will** be mentions/flashbacks of the various potentially triggering topics in the tags, as well as various other topics in the present of the story (also tagged). Please read at your own discretion.
> 
> I know, I know. I've said it before, but I want to be careful. I've edited/reordered the tags again.


	13. A Necessary Evil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fears drive Taeyong to sleeplessness, just as a new neurological symptom arises. Taeil presents a dilemma to Mark, urging him to complete his community service. Johnny and Yuta share parting words.

It was early morning on the ward. Even Taeyong knew that as the light in his padded cell was still dimmed, and there wasn't even the slightest noise of movement beyond the door. He yawned quietly, shifting where he was lying. Rather than lying on his mattress, he'd settled on the thin pillow, and instead resorted to using the mattress itself as a pillow. He'd been unsettled the whole night; even nervous to sleep. Taeil wasn't on the ward at night. Taeyong didn't want to risk waking up in the midst of a nightmare, shouting at the top of his lungs until somebody came into the room. It had never ended well in the past, and he wasn't willing to find out what would happen with new people. 

His hands were resting on the mattress in front of him. He took a moment to lift the arm wraps that were snugly wrapped around his forearms. They were a mess. He hated to think how pitiful he must have been from the perspective of the staff in Daehak. It hadn't been that bad in Namhyeon, even when the abuse was at its worst. Taeyong rolled onto his back, looking at the white ceiling. The dim lights looked back down at him. He was beginning to miss the sunlight, the scent of plants and trees, even the gentle hum of the bees. The padded cells were always overwhelming to be in for long periods of time. The silence felt deafening. Even other patients arguing with nurses was somewhat like white noise to him, always there—and somehow comforting.

Taeyong sat up. There was no way he could even shut his eyes and pretend to sleep when he felt so restless. Everything felt timeless to him; he had no way to differentiate the minutes or hours in a day. In the past, he'd heard the caretakers in Namhyeon fuss about schedules. Jaehyun explained it to him, _"a certain time in the day when they do something, like how Yuta used to leave to scavenge for food once the sun was about to disappear"._ Time. The concept felt foreign to him. Even his comfort-counting was groundless. He didn't do it to know many seconds had passed, because he'd run into a barrier eventually. He just did what he felt necessary at that moment. He didn't think about the future, but the past was always holding him by the throat.

He began to notice something as time passed. As the light automatically turned to its usual intensity, he looked down at his hand. There was an abnormal sensation running through his right hand. Nothing painful. Something that he'd never noticed before—a gentle tingling. He clenched his fist, sighing as he heard the lock in the door click. The door opened, and in shuffled Taeil, fixing his doctor's coat as he shut the door. Taeyong immediately hid his hand and watched the psychiatrist walk over.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, taking a seat beside the patient.

"I suppose," he lied, he actually hadn't managed to get much further than closing his eyes.

Taeil gave him a concerned glance, but nonetheless, he nodded. "Any nightmares?"

"Yeah, just the usual."

"Any changes, or are they just the exact same?"

"Well... they have small changes."

"You're hiding something from me."

Taeyong sighed. The elder was too observant. He knew how to read him _perfectly_ , and he hated that. "I can't sleep."

"Why? How are you feeling? Anything will help me diagnose you correctly."

"I'm worried that I'll disturb people."

"These padded cells have soundproofing, you won't disturb anybody."

"But when—" the patient looked down, clenching his fist, "It doesn't matter."

"What is it? I want to help you," Taeil replied, "is it something about Doctor Park?"

The younger nodded lightly, refusing to look up from the ground. "He didn't like it when I woke up from a nightmare."

"Are you ready to talk about him?"

Taeyong tensed, and the psychiatrist noticed that. He'd gulped, gripping onto some of the cloth of his sleeve. He wasn't ready. Anybody could see that.

"No? Alright, that's fine. But, Taeyong, how do you feel about talking to somebody that isn't me?"

"No, I won't," he insisted.

"I was expecting that," Taeil sighed, "I just thought maybe it'd help."

"Why would it?"

"It's not my job to talk you through your past and help you come to terms with what has happened. You need to speak with a therapist—"

"I'm not!"

Of course, it wouldn't be easy, it was Taeyong, after all. He didn't exactly have the same social skills and experience as others. "It can be good to clear your mind."

"I don't want to!"

Taeyong had seen a therapist before, not that it helped, as it was during his time in Namhyeon. He'd seen many different kinds of people over the years. Doctors, psychiatrists, child behavior specialists, and scientists were just a small few. But he remembered how he'd sat in the small, furnished room as a woman observed him—how he'd fidget, look at the door, avoid her gaze, and rock on the chair that was almost three times the size of him, and she'd try to talk to him in the usual soft, belittling voice that people used with him constantly up until he was around sixteen, at the latest—and how he'd felt so looked down upon and so hateful. At first, the idea of having this woman around didn't particularly bother him much. Sure, he _hated_ being locked in that room, but he wasn't in danger. 

But he learned that there was more than just being "in danger" to worry about. The annoyance and distaste from the woman was one thing, but when she knew for a fact that he was being abused by Doctor Park, Taeyong realized that people just didn't care. She'd seen it with her own eyes. She left, and nothing changed. Or maybe he'd threatened her. He felt hopeless and alone, and even the people who were supposed to support him were flawed. At seventeen, he'd wondered what would have been different if he'd have killed his father before he could get to his mother. The latter always did seem to take his side, anyway.

"Taeyong?" asked Taeil, gently tapping his arm, "Are you here?"

"Y-Yeah."

"I just asked you how you're feeling physically, can you tell me?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary, I'm just a little tired."

"That's to be expected," the psychiatrist nodded. "Have you tried to sleep?"

"I did for the first few nights."

The elder made it obvious he was waiting for further comment from Taeyong, waiting quietly. The patient knew he wouldn't drop the matter.

"It's just like something is keeping me awake."

"Try to sleep tonight. If you keep struggling, I'll have to talk to Doctor Yoon."

"Why?"

"You might need to go on some medication, otherwise your health will deteriorate," Taeil replied, "well, obviously we have to be careful."

Taeyong thought. The last time he was on medication in a facility, he'd feel hazy and would find it difficult to respond to anything that happened around him. "Can I sleep without them?"

"If you can, then that's good."

"I don't like medicine which makes things slow."

Taeil suddenly remembered the video from in Namhyeon while the patient was in Doctor Park's care, and what Doctor Jang had told him about the videotape that was found. Taeyong's slow, calm demeanor had become so rare in the facility that he was confined to a padded cell and that state had to be induced. But Doctor Park had abused that authority. "Right, that makes sense."

"I know something that helps me sleep."

"Go on."

"Mark."

"I can't bring him here every night," the psychiatrist groaned.

Taeyong frowned. "Why?"

"He has a job, remember? Plus, I'd get shouted at by my boss if I brought him to you."

There was a knock on the door, making the patient huff. Taeil stood up and walked toward the door. He pulled it open. The detective stood on the other side. Taeyong scowled, looking away. He knew he'd fall if he stood up, so he didn't even feel like hitting him.

"What are you doing here?" asked Taeil, looking to the security who sat at a small table in the corner of the small containment room.

"I have something important to tell you."

The psychiatrist looked back at Taeyong, and then to the clock. They still had half an hour until the end of the session. "Do you mind if I talk to Detective Kim for a few minutes?"

"I suppose."

"Thanks, I'll stay later with you to make up for it."

Taeyong hummed in response, agitated by the detective's presence. But the door closed, leaving him contained. Taeil and Detective Kim stepped out into the hallway. The elder had an expression that the psychiatrist had never liked. "I'm sure you won't be very enthusiastic about this."

"I'm sick of surprises, please just tell me."

"Alright," he replied, "Qian Kun stabbed himself in prison and is currently undergoing a psychological assessment."

"Kun? Is he alright?"

"He's fine, it hardly did any damage. He ruptured a few veins, but that's about it. He did it in front of another inmate, it was clearly planned."

"He's becoming reckless," Taeil sighed, "what do you think will happen?"

"Me? I think he'll go back to prison. Probably in a contained unit."

"How did he even stab himself? Prisons are supposed to be _safe_."

Detective Kim reached into his pocket, taking out a photograph from the bathroom where the endeavor occurred. "He'd been smuggling materials out of the workhouse. They checked his cell and found several pieces of metal like that, all hidden under his cellmate's bed."

"He's too smart for his own good."

"He purposefully missed any major veins or arteries. He certainly inherited his parents' intelligence."

"I wish all of us were born that blessed."

The elder nodded. "One more thing."

"Go ahead."

"We know Mark hasn't been attending his community service hours. Do you happen to know why?"

"Why do you think? He's being stubborn."

"Can't you convince him to do it?"

"He's gotten a job now and he's starting to go out and about more, so no. I've already turned his life upside down. I'm not going to make him hate me even more."

"He'll be arrested if he doesn't abide by the agreements."

Taeil sighed, "why can't you leave him alone?"

"It's my job, Taeil, you know that."

"I know, but he's trying to live his _own_ life."

"If he doesn't continue his service—not to mention that the man he was working with said he was quite rude—he'll have to return to the station and may be transferred to a low-security prison unit."

"Fine, I'll mention it. But I'm not forcing him."

"All he needs is a gentle nudge, it should do the trick."

"Are we talking about the same person here?"

Detective Kim chuckled. "Maybe not. Anyway, I'll let you get back to Taeyong. But quickly, how is he doing?"

"I'll be honest, not good."

"Well, he's got trustworthy people rooting for him. I'll see you another day, then."

"Yeah, bye," he said quietly, turning back around.

He still hadn't quite accepted that Detective Kim was the reason Taeyong was admitted, after all that effort they both put into finding him and Mark. He did understand why, but it still created a challenge that wasn't necessary. Taeil returned to the room, closing the door behind him before he walked into Taeyong's cell. He was surprised to see the younger standing, waiting by the door. He hadn't noticed that the patient's clothes were a little baggier than usual beforehand and laughed quietly.

"Well done for moving. I thought you'd been glued to the floor."

"Well, there isn't much reason to move."

Suddenly, an idea slipped into Taeil's mind. One that would be beneficial for both Taeyong and Mark. "Do you want to see Mark today?"

* * *

"You want me to agree to go complete my community service to see Taeyong once a week?"

"Yes! I think it'll be good for you both. It gives you both motivation. You get your community service out of the way, and Taeyong's mood can be lifted, and he might be able to get his sleep schedule back to normal."

"I can't believe you," Mark muttered, "you're using my wish to see him."

"I'm not, I'm motivating you."

"You're forcing me to do my community service."

"Well, don't say I didn't try."

Mark held back a curse, looking at the television screen. The audio played quietly in the background. "Fine, I'll do it. Only because Taeyong will want to see me and I want to see him."

"Good. I'll call the ward supervisor to _warn_ him of the plan, I suppose."

"Is this allowed?"

"Not yet, I'll have to debate with somebody first. I'll give you time to get ready."

"How long? Do I have long enough to shower?"

Taeil chuckled. "Make it quick."

The younger shot from the couch quicker than the psychiatrist had ever seen him move. He disappeared into the hallway, leaving Taeil to turn the television off to stop interference. he knew he should have proposed the idea to Doctor Hak beforehand, but it was kind of a rushed idea. He searched for his contact and waited, tapping on his knee as he waited. When the other side picked up, he sat up straight as though the other party could see him and cleared his throat.

 _"Doctor Moon,"_ the elder said in a matter-of-factly tone.

"Yeah, it's me. Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if it's possible for patient Lee Taeyong to have a visitor today."

_"You know patients that haven't been assessed can't have visitors."_

"Doctor Hak, I think this will be good for him. He's had a very rough admission and the visitor is a very important person to him."

_"Not to mention Lee Taeyong is in confinement for the assault."_

"But you're aware of the patient's past—you know he's quite selective about the people he trusts. He's been struggling to sleep and has been having frequent episodes, he could do with some relief."

_"Episodes of what? Haven't you and Doctor Jang not diagnosed him yet?"_

"Well, we're currently investigating the possibility of him having PTSD, but we haven't quite finished our questioning."

_"Shouldn't you be doing that first?"_

"Please, Doctor Hak. This would be really good for Taeyong."

There was a long sigh. _"Fine. Fifteen minutes, in his padded cell. You must supervise them."_

"Thank you so much!"

_"Don't make me regret this."_

He hung up. Taeil found himself thinking about what Doctor Jang had said, about how something seemed suspicious about Taeyong's reactivity around Doctor Hak. He hoped it was just him reading everything wrong. Even if the supervisor wasn't exactly the friendliest, he was certainly qualified and experienced in the field, and it didn't seem right to suspect that he'd abuse his position. But it would explain everything, nonetheless. Even then, Taeil noted how he acted similarly for most patients; Taeyong was different, anyway. Why wouldn't he closely monitor him?

* * *

"Are you excited?" asked Doctor Cho, sitting opposite Johnny.

The latter smirked, nodding gently. He placed his arm around the back of the couch that he sat on. "Of course, I've been waiting to get out of here since the second I was brought here against my will."

"You understand that you _have_ to take your medication, no matter what—right?"

"Or I'll come back. Yeah, I get it. I don't want to burden Taeil. I know he worries, so I'll take it."

"It's relieving that you'll be living with somebody you can trust, and who I can count on to keep you in line. But he's a busy man, so I expect you to take control of your own life."

"I know, Doc. I was planning on it."

Doctor Cho smiled. "It's arranged that Taeil will pick you up in... approximately two hours. It's still free time, so do you want to say goodbye to the others?"

"Who? Can I remind you that I'm the punching bag on this ward?" Johnny scoffed.

"Yuta."

"Him? He won't care, he's only concerned because I'm the one who tells him what's going on."

"That may be so, but he doesn't get to speak to people. I've gotten permission to let you say your goodbyes."

Johnny sneered at that, lifting his arm from around the back of the couch. "Alright, fine. Only because he's going to rot in here."

"You can talk to him while he's in his cell. I'll give you a few minutes. Afterward, you can return to your room to gather your things or stay in the social area. It's up to you."

"I don't have much, it won't take me two hours. I'll peer out of a window for an hour, first."

"Alright. Let's go, Yuta should be awake. Or, I hope so."

Johnny stood up once the doctor did, and followed him as the elder walked to the door. When they stepped out, the patient looked through the metal bars, at all of the people sitting around. Some people talked to each other, some sat alone, and some were clearly surrounded by undesired company. Doctor Cho locked the door to his office. Walking towards one of the rows of rooms beside the daytime social area, Johnny followed behind, ignoring how people looked at him from inside the social area. They stopped by a room and the patient glanced over, there was a small cart beside the door, signaling that a nurse was in the room. Doctor Cho walked closer and peered inside. Johnny curiously looked in and laughed when he saw Yuta, in the midst of refusing to take his pills.

"Yuta, you need to take them. I have someone here to see you."

"You're scared about some little pills?" Johnny joked.

Yuta rolled his eyes, looking at Johnny on the other side of the door. "That's rich coming from you."

"I've long passed that, that's why I'm leaving."

"Well, some of us can't," Yuta scowled, taking the pills out of the nurse's hand. "You can leave now, I'll take them."

"You can thank me for that later," said Johnny as the nurse walked out of the room.

The younger patient slipped the pills onto his tongue and took a quick drink of water, swallowing them back as quickly as he could. "Well, are you here to complain at me, or do you want something?"

"No, I'm leaving later."

"Right, so you came to say goodbye? That's not like you. I thought you hated me?"

"I still do," the elder reaffirmed.

"Right," Yuta scoffed, "sure."

"How long have you got left here?"

Yuta sighed, lying on his bed. He crossed his arms behind his head and looked at the door. "Twenty-six years."

"Jesus Christ," Johnny chuckled, "you'll be fifty when you're released."

"Well, not everybody supports lawful killing."

"You sound like Kun."

"Don't say that," the younger groaned, "I was protecting us all."

"That _also_ sounds like something that Kun would say."

"He dragged a man from the street and stabbed him to death, clearly trying to blame it on one of us."

Johnny shrugged. "Sounds like something you'd do, too."

"That's because I would if I had the chance to. But somebody ruined our chances."

"Maybe it was supposed to happen. Maybe it's good that they found us."

"No matter how you look at it—it isn't good, at all."

* * *

_Taeyong recognized it. The heavy, walnut-colored chest of drawers that he was squatting beside, peeking around the edge of it to look at the door. The door was cracked open the slightest bit, not enough to give a clear view of the stairs, but enough so that he could see the light slipping in. The small bed wasn't too far in front of him, beginning where the drawers ended. The slither of space between the bed, the drawers, and the wall had become his hiding place. He hugged his legs tightly to his chest, hearing a door slam downstairs. He flinched as he heard his father's thunderous voice, echoing off of the walls of the house._

_His mother was arguing back, he could hear her. It felt as though he could hear every last footstep loud and clear. The sound became closer. He heard the door at the base of the stairs burst open, allowing noise to flood up the stairs as they came in his direction. Their voices were too clear. Taeyong hid further behind the chest of drawers as footsteps grew up the stairs._

_"Get out!"_

_"You're not going to tell me to get out of my own house, woman!"_

_"Don't touch him! We can talk about this downstairs."_

_"There's no more 'talking' to be done!"_

_Taeyong heard the door open, allowing light to flood into the room. He pushed himself as close to the wall as he could, his arms tightening around his legs. A shadow was cast over the bed, and he heard his mother's quiet cries. The bed dipped down on one side, and Taeyong gripped onto the sleeve of the jumper his mother had given him. When he saw his father's face, he buried his own face into his knees, tensing as he moved closer. The man's hand reached out before it gripped tightly around the boy's thin wrist. Though he tried to pull his hand away, he was pulled forward, and quickly collided with the side of the bed._

_"Get up!" his father yelled, his grip tightening._

_Taeyong struggled to climb onto the bed, but he was pulled onto it and fell forward. His father dragged him further before letting go, taking his hand away to reveal a light red mark. The boy shuffled back until he was leaned against the headboard. He heard his mother run over as he returned to his usual, balled up sitting position._

_"You stay over there," he heard his father spit, "I can't deal with both of you at once."_

_His mother was pushed over, and as she stumbled back, Taeyong sat up as though to react. His father sneered at him, staring at the boy as he immediately shrunk back._

_"What are you gonna do? You won't even tell me to stop! You're worthless and weak!"_

_"Leave him alone!" his mother shouted, "He's your son, for God's sake!"_

_"He's no son of mine! He puts shame on this family!"_

_Taeyong frowned, his cautious eyes fixed on his father as the latter stared furiously at his mother. He heard his mother hold back a cry and looked down. His father was right, he couldn't do anything. The man took one last look at his six-year-old son and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Taeyong saw the disappointment on his face as he left. The tension immediately left his body and he slipped off of the side of the bed, running to cling onto his mother's legs._

_"It's alright," she spoke quietly, running her hands through his hair, "he doesn't mean it, he's having a bad day."_

_She pulled his arms away, moving him back so she could kneel down to his level. He looked at her curiously as she held his small hand._

_"Can you draw a picture for me?"_

_He hesitated, trying to hug his mother. She moved him away again and raised her hand to his face, gently running her thumb across an old red mark that lingered on his face. He looked down, nudging his face into her hand, and she chuckled._

_"Stay in here while papa calms down, okay? Draw me a picture and wait until I come and get you. We'll get through this. I'll stop him for you."_

_Taeyong watched as she stood up, taking her hand away from him. She drew a sharp breath as she stood up, holding a hand over her ribs. One last reassuring gaze was sent his way as she edged towards the door, and she left without another word. He was alone again._

* * *

Mark walked behind Taeil as the elder unlocked the door. The former found himself sneering quietly, looking at the security officer behind them and the tough metal door. All of that to keep Taeyong contained seemed like a bit of a waste of resources, he wasn't exactly the strongest person alive, nor did he pose a serious threat to anybody while he was anywhere near the psychiatrist. When the door was pulled open, Taeil turned around. "Fifteen minutes."

He let the younger walk in first and entered after him, closing the door behind him. Mark's serious expression faded as he saw the patient lying asleep on the ground. He smiled softly and walked over, kneeling beside Taeyong. He looked at his balled fists and was about to shake the elder awake when he caught a glance of the thin fabric wrapped around his wrists. Blood had soaked through, making him frown. He let out a sigh as he placed his hand on Taeyong's arm and gently shook him. The patient moved slightly, repositioning his head on the mattress, but never opened his eyes. Mark had to shake him once more and call his name quietly for him to even begin to wake up.

The elder whined quietly—still half asleep—and placed his hand on top of Mark's, gripping it lightly. The younger laughed quietly as Taeyong shuffled closer to him and placed his head on his lap. "Are you just going to sleep?"

The patient never replied. Mark could feel his soft breaths against his leg and shook his head, placing a hand on the elder's shoulder. He made eye contact with Taeil, who smiled and looked away. Taeyong moved slightly. "Why did you come back for us?"

"What do you mean?" asked Mark, taken aback.

"In Namhyeon. I thought you wouldn't come back."

"I wasn't going to, at first," the younger confessed, "I was scared to, but I didn't want to let you down."

"Really?"

"Really. You wanted to see the outside, so I came back. I'm not the type to quit something when I put my mind to it. You pulled me in," Mark chuckled.

Taeyong reached out for the younger's free hand, and pulled it towards him, holding it in his hands. "Has your mind changed?"

"No, it hasn't. I agreed to do my community service just to see you."

"Community... service?"

"The police are forcing me to be a public slave."

Taeil cleared his throat from the door. "You're repaying them for the pardon."

"The police? Should I get them?" asked Taeyong, prompting the psychiatrist to raise his head and peer over.

He watched as the patient turned onto his back, making eye contact with Mark. The younger smiled. "You can't, can you?"

Taeil saw a glint of determination in Taeyong's eyes. He watched curiously, but Mark's eyes flicked in his direction and his demeanor immediately changed.

"I'll deal with them, don't stress about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Remember where we are."

Taeyong blinked and turned to look at the psychiatrist by the door. He frowned, turning back to Mark with a sigh. "Right."

Something was going on, and Taeil felt like he was being kept in the dark. Nonetheless, he returned his gaze to the ground as the pair continued to talk.

* * *

_"Should we have a break?" asked Mark, slipping his hand out of Taeyong's._

_"If you want to."_

_The younger huffed as he pulled his bag from his back, pulling a bottle out before he placed the bag on the ground. The bottle was beginning to look filthy, covered in dirt on the exterior, but it served its purpose. The sky was beginning to turn black, but there was still enough light to see their surroundings. Mark motioned the bottle towards the patient, but the latter shook his head, sitting down on the dusty road. He pulled the bandage on his leg, looking under it momentarily. It was still gruesome to look at._

_"We should find somewhere to stay soon."_

_"I hope so," Taeyong replied._

_Mark returned the bottle to his bag, placing it aside. He was about to speak again when he saw the elder's head abruptly jerk towards the woodland beside them. He turned too as Taeyong got onto his feet, crouching alert. They both heard twigs snap. A man emerged from the darkness, and he looked just as taken aback as they did. He came to a stop, turning to grip onto a tree in surprise._

_"Who are you?" asked Mark, occasionally glancing at the patient as he watched the man._

_"I'm just passing through, don't mind me."_

_"Out here? I find that hard to believe," said the younger._

_"I'm walking home."_

_Taeyong turned to look at Mark as the man began to walk towards him. The latter saw his hand slip into the bag and they made eye contact for a moment. Their communicative glances had them both distracted. The man was looking down as he walked past, but in the blink of an eye, the sound of abrupt movement snatched the patient's attention. He looked up to see the man gripping onto Mark, holding him in a headlock. He wasn't armed, but he had a phone in his hand._

_"I know who you are. Get down and I won't hurt him! On the ground, now!"_

_Rather than moving, Taeyong looked at Mark, the younger struggled against the man's grip, squirming and slamming his fist down on the man's arm. The gaze that he was met by made him fall still. The man looked at them both in confusion, due to the lack of a response. Mark suddenly thrust his elbow back and hit the man, but it hardly did anything but had the man's grip tighten. Taeyong moved to step forward but the man held out his phone._

_"I'm already in contact with the police!"_

_Mark's eyes widened and he gripped the man's arms, trying to pull them away. They couldn't get caught, not after everything they'd been through. He kicked back at the man._

_"I know you've killed somebody!"_

_That was the last thing the younger wanted to hear. He looked at Taeyong as the latter gritted his teeth, clenching his fist. His patience was clearly being tested. Mark took a deep breath, continuing to fight against the grip holding him in place. "Taeyong, get him! You have my permission!"_

_In less than a moment, the patient shot forward and grabbed the man by the neck with one hand while the other flicked open the pocket knife that he'd slipped out of the bag. Mark broke free from the grip and took the phone out of the man's hand, throwing it onto the floor. He watched as the man tried to grab Taeyong, but instead received a knife in the neck. Mark turned around, feeling his stomach twist as the patient pulled the blade out and pushed the man onto the ground, where blood began to pool among the gravel._

_Taeyong brushed his bloody hands down his clothes and his eyes averted to the phone on the floor. He walked towards it and began stomping on the device, hardly holding himself up as the screen smashed from the force. He wiped the blade clean with some cloth and returned the knife to the bag. He looked up as Mark walked towards him, expecting the other to be disappointed in him for actually stabbing the man, but instead, he pulled him into a hug. Taeyong smiled and buried his face into the crook of Mark's neck._

_"I thought about what you said, about sacrifices being necessary."_

_"You did?" the elder asked quietly, his voice muffled._

_"We need to survive, no matter what. So... we'll do whatever it takes. Even if we have to make sacrifices on the way."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I might start adding chapter summaries (soon)... It'll make it easier for me to navigate and also gives a small sneak peek of what the chapter holds.
> 
> I was a little later than the intended update day (Friday), but I had some things to do in my personal life. Anyway, I'm trying to contextualize and reveal information that will be important as the story progresses, so don't be falling asleep while reading! Just kidding, if my writing bores you, feel free to sleep.


	14. Partners in Crime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taeil finally gets Johnny home, and Mark goes through with his promise to do his community service. However—it doesn't quite go to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please refer to the warnings in the tags if you have any triggers, the list has been updated.

Taeil let Mark return to the car once he'd finished his fifteen minutes with Taeyong. He walked down to ward three, heading to Doctor Cho's office to collect Johnny. He was glad that he'd finally be able to have the younger home. Though he was dreading the interactions between him and Mark, he'd been notified that Johnny was a lot less confrontational while on his meds, which made sense. When he reached the office, he knocked gently. He was told to enter and shuffled into the room. Johnny sat in front of his psychiatrist's desk, holding a bag.

"You were a bit late, Doctor Moon."

"Sorry, I had to oversee a visit. I should've contacted you, but it was last minute."

"It alright. When duty calls, you must answer. That's respectable. Johnny has been waiting for you for two hours."

"I had no problem with waiting, but I just want to get out of here. Can we leave?"

Doctor Cho chuckled. "Not quite, there are files to be signed."

"This could have been done hours ago."

"I have to sign something," said Taeil, "as your guardian."

"Guardian my ass," Johnny muttered.

The younger psychiatrist walked over and sat on the chair beside the patient, looking at the paper on the table as Doctor Cho slid it to him. The latter passed another to Johnny.

"Johnny, sign the line at the bottom of both pages. Read it through if you'd like, but basically, the first one is an agreement to continue paying for your treatment, and the second is agreeing to be admitted here again if there are any changes."

"You won't be seeing me again."

"I still have to check on you, asking if your medication is alright. I've got contact details from Doctor Moon."

"I have no peace even now?"

"Just sign the sheet," said Taeil, without lifting his gaze from his paper.

Johnny groaned but complied, quickly signing both pieces of paper without bothering to read them. He knew Taeil wouldn't make him sign anything that wasn't in his best interest. He waited as the elder finished, soon placing the pen back on the desk and handing Doctor Cho both of their signed papers. Taeil turned to Johnny, and there was relief in expression as he picked up his bag and stood up.

"Well, we should get going," said Taeil, "thank you for everything."

"It's my job," Doctor Cho smiled.

"Get me out of here."

The younger psychiatrist chuckled and mouthed "goodbye" to his elder, before turning to walk to the door with Johnny. He closed the door behind them and let out a sigh of relief. "Finally."

"You could have kidnapped me earlier."

"Don't joke around, you know I couldn't. Well—we're together now, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we are."

They began to walk over to the staircase, but Johnny's gaze drifted into the patients' social area. A specific group of them looked at him as he walked alongside Taeil, looking through the bars that kept them inside. They soon began to talk amongst themselves. Johnny knew they were mocking him, from the obvious gazes they sent his way occasionally. He scowled, looking at the ground. He knew he couldn't act up in there, he was outnumbered, and Taeil was never there to help him, so he ignored them. Even Yuta's intervention with the last people who bothered them made it worse, rather than doing any good. Word traveled quickly in there.

But he knew one thing; he was glad to be leaving Daehak, and he had no intention of going back.

* * *

The office was dark. Detective Kim sat in front of an illuminated screen, audio playing quietly. He let out a deep sigh as the call audio cut out, ending abruptly with a beep on the recording device's behalf. The door opened, and in walked Detective Ahn, holding a takeout cup tray and a small plastic evidence bag with a pen drive inside. 

"Daesik, why don't you go home for the night? You've been working non-stop all week."

"I'm not going to just abandon my work here," the younger detective replied, "plus, you've bought us drinks now."

"I can easily drink both."

Detective Kim chuckled, "right."

"So, have you magically had a breakthrough, or have you just listened to that call recording twenty times for the sake of it?"

"I'm cleansing my thoughts."

"That's not quite the way I'd do it, but you do you."

"No, I mean," said Detective Kim, "I'm trying to hit myself with the reality, so I can stop feeling bad for Taeyong."

"A bit of compassion won't harm anybody."

"But every time we investigate him, I see the boy in the barn."

Detective Ahn sat down, sliding a drink over to the younger, before placing the pen drive on the table. "Well, this might help."

"What is it?"

"Footage from the city closest to the site of the third body's discovery site in Uiwang, the approximated day of the killing. Taeyong and Mark were caught on a CCTV camera on the outskirts of the city."

Detective Kim immediately took out the pen drive that was already in the computer and slotted the other, new pen drive into the computer. When he clicked on the video file, Detective Ahn moved closer to watch the clip. At first, they were both unsure of what to look at. There were some cars, only slightly in view at the bottom of the screen. Across a road, there were countless trees, all casting a dark shadow over the view. After a while, a pair walked into view, walking on the furthest point of the road. They watched as they walked along, both checking on each other and occasionally looking over at the other side of the road. One of them seemed to be almost hiding something, though it was difficult to see.

Detective Ahn leaned over and paused the video, before enlarging the still shot. It was kind of pixelated, but it was easier to see who was who. Mark was the one hiding something, seeming to cover his t-shirt with his jacket. Upon closer inspection, Detective Kim noticed blood on Mark's t-shirt when he turned around on the video and paused it again. "Look, is that blood?"

"It certainly looks like it," said the elder, "Do you think Taeyong hurt him?"

"Well—we've got no context. They were living in the woods until they moved to the farmhouse, so we've got no witnesses or footage."

"Unless it was from the stabbing? Was Mark near when the victim was stabbed?"

"I think he moved away, from what it sounded like."

Detective Ahn hummed. "This is difficult. Do you think Mark was perhaps on the receiving end of Taeyong's violent tendencies while they were together?"

"'Were'?" asked Detective Kim, "They're still together, I'm not sure if Mark read his community service and fine terms properly."

"Well, since Moon Taeil notified us that he's resuming his community service and has gotten a job, we'll just have to wait and see."

* * *

Mark was miserable when he woke up in the morning. Taeil had woken him up, understanding that he would have slept through his community service for the day if he hadn't. Mark and Johnny had hardly even breathed in each other's direction in the morning. Taeil had also driven him to the location, just to make sure he _actually_ got there, and he gave his contact details to the man that was observing him in case anything happened. It made him feel almost parent-like. Mark watched him leave, with the litter-picking contraption in one hand and a bag in another, cleaning a local park. He knew where they were, he used to go to that park.

The observer didn't seem happy to see him, and frankly, Mark wasn't happy to see him either. The younger walked around, completely unamused, picking up after all of the people who went to the park. He recalled Taeyong mentioning how he'd always find litter at the farm, and how he thought something had gone wrong. Humanity wasn't supposed to destroy everything it touched, but that was what was happening. Mark emptied the bin with a struggle, carrying the silver bucket over to the van. He took the bag out, but too much litter had fallen into the bin. So, as his observer's eyes were glued to his phone, he climbed onto the back of the van and tipped what was left into the deep pan.

He had to get it over and done with if he wanted to get to work in the afternoon. He'd decided the night earlier that he was going to work as much as he could, collecting money until he could move out of Taeil's and pay for Taeyong's treatment, waiting for him to be discharged. He wasn't sure how long it would be, but he wasn't planning on changing his goals. He wanted to support himself and Taeyong, so they didn't have to rely on anybody and be let down. He knew it would be much easier on the patient if they could stay out of people's way.

Mark watched as people wandered past, looking in his direction as he tore litter from a bush, forcefully stuffing it into a bag. He could hear the observer laughing quietly to himself. He didn't quite know why the man irritated him so much, he just _did_. It was the feeling type of hatred, not the superficial _"you annoy me, leave me alone"_ type of hatred. He continued searching for litter, working quietly.

"Can't you go any faster?" the man questioned, "I'm not here to sit and wait for you to move your ass and get this done."

That was exactly why he was there. Mark rolled his eyes, staring back at the man.

"What? Are you stupid too? Like your little boyfriend."

Mark clenched his jaw, gripping the litter-picker with more force than before. 

"You disgusting freaks," the man muttered. "You should've both just died, rather than wasting precious time, money, and manpower being searched for."

"We never asked to be searched for," Mark snapped.

The man sneered. "So, you will speak? You know, nothing in the world would change if you and that worthless man-hound were to disappear off of the face of the earth. You contribute nothing to society, and him? All he does is _threaten_ society."

He clenched his fist, holding it beside his side. People could only speak badly of them. There was distaste, anger, hatred, and pity _everywhere._ It was as though everybody was brainwashed into hating them. Mark pressed his lips together, not wanting to show the man that his words were getting to him. He couldn't win.

"Though I'm sure you're a little bit smarter—there has to be a reason why you stayed with somebody like him. Is he easy for you? He's already been whipped into shape, you've got it easy."

Mark knew what he was implying, and it made his face twitch in anger. Subconsciously, he began to twist the litter-picker against the ground. He was hanging on by a thin thread, and it was about to go past its limit. But he was beginning to question something. Just what did the public know, and why was this man so certain that he knew what happened? But he was so _unbelievably_ wrong.

"Maybe that's all he's good for; being used."

The image of Taeyong's weak smile as he sat on the floor, his gaze fixed on Mark flashed into his mind. There was a bruise already forming on the patient's face, just beneath his eye. He was trembling. Even then, there was nothing but admiration in his dark eyes. A mere meter away from him, a bloody arm was in view with a watch tightly hugging its wrist. Taeyong had glanced at the arm, and when he looked back, he had risen from the ground, wrapping his shaky arms around his waist.

Mark heard a scoff, and he lifted his gaze, remembering where he was. That loathsome man was staring back at him, a snarky grin plastered on his face. The younger almost just turned away and gave him the cold shoulder, but hearing him spit another insult—aimed at Taeyong, quite obviously—Mark's fist tightened and he swung his arm. He saw the smugness disappear from the man's face as the litter-picker was hauled towards him. He hardly had time to shield his face when it hit him, causing him to duck instinctively. 

Mark dropped the piece of metal, grabbing the man by his shirt and pushing him backward. His fist shot in the man's direction, landing beside his nose. He swore he felt a crack. The man shouted something, but it went straight through Mark's head. He slammed his knee into his abdomen and was met with a distressed and stifled cry on the elder's behalf. He cracked a slight smile. If he couldn't protect Taeyong from afar, he could at least defend his name.

_"Did he hurt you?"_

Another punch was sent in the man's direction, causing him to stumble backward. A hand gripped onto Mark. He was trying to fight back, pitifully. He swatted the man's hand away and kicked him. He landed on the ground with a quiet thud. There was a cough as he wiped himself down, looking up at Mark. But he never expected that he'd come back for more. The younger also landed on the ground, his hands tangling in the man's shirt as he pushed him against the ground. He was setting the scene for another punch—and another. Mark gritted his teeth as he felt a warm liquid on his fist, shifting. There was a weak cough through ripples of pain.

_"No, you came in time. I love you, so, so much."_

Mark wouldn't have stopped, he would have kept going forever if he could, feeling the excitement coursing through his veins. Perhaps he'd have had a life slip away, through his hands.

_"Even more than before?"_

He would have punched the man more and more, but he felt somebody pull him from behind and turned, hitting their arm away. "What do you want?"

"What do you think you're doing?"

A familiar voice. He couldn't remember the male's name, though. Seulgi's roommate—the doctor. The man on the ground groaned, beginning to sit up. The roommate rushed over to his side.

"Don't sit up, just stay there. I'll get you to a hospital."

Mark looked at his bloody fists. His hands were shaking in anger, still. He looked back at the man, sighing as he saw the roommate cover his bleeding nose. "You should just leave him, 'he contributes nothing to society'."

The mocking tone made the roommate scowl, clearly disapproving. The man pushed the doctor's arm away, throwing the bloodied cloth onto the ground. "Get that monster away from me!"

"Mark, stand by the van."

"I'll pass."

"You're breaking the law."

"And?" Mark looked back, "He insulted me and Taeyong."

"That isn't a good reason to break a man's nose," the roommate said through gritted teeth.

The younger turned to walk away. He didn't have time for heroics. He heard his name be called as he walked away, but the doctor couldn't leave an injured man's side. People would always put their image first, hold a facade to the world. But Mark wasn't like that; he had no reason to be. Everybody hated him anyway.

* * *

Taeyong was in a dark room, hearing the gentle hum of the forest at night. There were occasional ruffles in the bushes, sending him on edge. He clenched his fist as a figure emerged from the darkness. He felt hopeless. He tried to move, but he couldn't. There was a haunting smile on the fair old, ragged looking man before him.

_"What's a cute face like yours doing out here? Are you alone?"_

He held his breath, pushing himself away from the man before him. Mark had the knife. He had nothing to defend himself.

_"I don't like when people come into my house."_

His house? That couldn't be right. Mark _told_ him that the place was empty. He wouldn't lie; perhaps he didn't know?

_"I suppose I can make an exception for you."_

Taeyong clenched his eyes shut. He remembered that his mother always told him to run when he felt in danger, but he couldn't, his leg was throbbing in pain, bleeding all over the ground. He felt a hand on his leg and froze. There was no way that was happening. He was sure it was a nightmare. Doctor Park _had_ been coming into his mind often—he could blame that. Mark should have been coming back If it wasn't a dream, Mark could have arrived and saved him. They could both be safe.

Taeyong felt hands on his shoulders, and his back soon touched the floor. He felt sick. His body was trembling and he felt a wave of dread overrun his body. He was sure he felt a teardrop, and a hand covered his mouth. Just as he felt a hand fumble with the button on his jeans, he heard a shout. It sounded familiar. He opened his eyes as he felt a gentle shake.

He let out a weak gasp, his eyes meeting white. He turned around. Taeil was kneeling beside him, wide-eyed. He took his hand away as Taeyong drew a shaky breath. "Are you alright? You've been moving around a lot this last hour, and when I walked in, you were making really quiet noises, like mumbling."

"I'm fine."

"Taeyong, I work with enough abuse victims to know what having a nightmare looks like."

The patient sat up, wrapping his arms around his legs. "It was just a stupid dream."

"What happened? Was it about your father again?"

"No."

"Doctor Park?"

Taeyong shook his head. He felt so pitiful. How did he let several people ruin his life?

"There's... somebody else?"

"It was just a one-time thing."

Taeil felt nervous, dreading what was going to follow. "Is it possibly... Mark?"

"No!"

"Then who is it?"

"A man, he was homeless. When me and Mark ran away."

"Oh God, what happened?"

Taeyong hesitated, pulling his legs right up so he was balled against the wall. "He lived in the house, but we didn't know."

"If the farmhouse?"

"He came back while Mark was looking for food," he said, ignoring the lump in the back of this throat.

"Go on."

"H-He just wanted me to do something for him."

"In exchange for staying there?" asked Taeil.

He nodded, "I think."

"How long was this going on? Did Mark _let_ you?"

"No! It didn't happen, Mark helped me. He scared the homeless man and he left."

"Well, that's better," the psychiatrist replied, "do you want a hug?"

"I don't—"

Ignoring Taeyong's response, Taeil threw his arms around him. For a moment, the patient seemed hesitant, but he soon hugged back. The psychiatrist just hoped Doctor Hak didn't know how many times he'd hugged him, as he was sure to have an issue. It seemed obvious that he wasn't exactly big on the idea of having Taeil as Taeyong's psychiatrist. And while it made sense—because they knew each other—it was the best thing for the patient. A far as Taeil was concerned, that was the most important thing.

"So, what was going on yesterday?"

"What do you mean?" asked Taeyong, pulling away from the hug.

"I don't know, it seemed like you and Mark have some kind of secret code."

The patient's grip on his legs loosened and he sighed, sitting back. "It was nothing."

"It didn't seem like nothing. What would you do to the police if you weren't in here? You promised me you wouldn't take any more lives."

"I'm keeping my promise."

"Really?"

Taeyong nodded. Taeil didn't need to know, it was better if he kept it a secret. The latter seemed to believe him. "And I _can't_ do anything anyway."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Sorry for doubting you."

* * *

Taeil was doing an awful lot of talking and walking during the day, catching up with patients, and stopping for a quick chat with Doctor Cho about Johnny's first night home, and how he'd been a little displeased to find out that Mark was staying with them. The elder was slightly unsurprised, noting how it had been years since they'd have had freedom together. To that, Taeil agreed, but it wasn't as though he could just tell Mark to find somewhere else to stay. He would have money to move out eventually, it was just a waiting game. At least he was going to do his community service.

The psychiatrist was returning to his office when he ran into Doctor Hak, and the latter stepped into his path with his usual serious expression. He flashed a quick smile before he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "Doctor Moon. Can we speak for a moment?"

"Sure. That's actually good timing, I wanted to ask you something."

"Your office?"

"Yeah, that's alright."

Taeil walked over to the door, sparing one glance across the hallway to look at Sicheng as the latter worked. They hadn't been talking as much, with all of their responsibilities. Sicheng had actually begun to help Xiaojun and Hendery with Ten and Yangyang, as the four of them still lived together. From what Taeil had heard, Sicheng had been frequenting their apartment an awful lot, but he decided to refrain from sticking his nose into their business. After all, Kun and Sicheng were always the ones to do most of the work with those four, while Taeil focused on the others.

"Doctor Moon?"

"Ah, sorry. I was just thinking."

"It's alright, but I have to return to my office soon for a meeting."

Taeil unlocked the door, stepping inside first so he could hold the door for Doctor Hak. He still needed to be respectful. "Please take a seat, I'm sure this won't take long."

"It's about Lee Taeyong," the elder began, once the door had closed, "nothing to worry about, just an observation."

"Please, go on."

"Well, you do remember that he was due to return to his room today—right?"

The younger psychiatrist paused, looking down at the desk. "I forgot."

"That's alright, actually. I was going to recommend keeping him in the padded cell until he's been evaluated."

"Why? Shouldn't it be vacated in case of an emergency?"

"We have plenty of empty isolation rooms on ward four, you should know that. There's an entire block on the left wing, he's in the long-term containment area."

"Still, could I ask _why?_ Why do you want him to stay there?"

There was a moment of silence, as though Doctor Hak was hesitating. Taeil furrowed his eyebrows, waiting for a response. "The same reason as I previously mentioned about minimizing his movement. It's less stressful."

"I understand that, but it isn't as though he hasn't been in that same room before."

"That's right, but it's been brought to my attention that Lee Taeyong is a danger to himself, is he not? Is that not normally a reportable factor?"

"We were trying to manage—"

"Your patient has been self-harming, and you _didn't_ think to report it to your supervisor? You just took the issue to the ward's first aid unit?"

Taeil let out a sigh. Somehow, he felt specifically targeted. "Taeyong has always been self-destructive, even when we were in Namhyeon."

"Well," Doctor Hak began, "you're not there right now, are you?"

"No, sir."

"You're not a fool, I know you're not. The staff here love you, you're everything they wanted to be. Don't let that get to your head. You still have a duty to report to me, and this is a serious matter. Have you questioned the patient as to why he's doing it?"

"He doesn't do it on purpose, it just happens when he feels overwhelmed. We've taken steps to prevent it from happening, and if those fail, we'll take it further."

"I would hope so," said the elder, "well, are we agreed on keeping him in the padded cell?"

Taeil nodded, "I suppose it wouldn't harm him to keep him there."

"Alright, I'll notify the appropriate staff. I'll have to leave now. Oh—before I go," said Doctor Hak, placing the piece of paper he'd had earlier on the desk. "That's the new date for Taeyong's evaluation. If you need more time, it's better to inquire sooner, rather than later."

"Thank you, I know it must be frustrating to hold it off."

The elder had already stood up and was preparing to leave, but he turned around. "Well, the patients come first, don't they?"

"Of course—"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Doctor Moon."

Taeil watched as the supervisor walked out of the room, and the door closed behind him. It was only when the psychiatrist looked at the date on the paper— _February 20th, 2024_ —that he realized that Doctor Hak left without giving him time to ask questions about Taeyong's episode in the cafeteria.

* * *

It was dark when Mark returned from working in the store. He was met by Johnny, who scowled at him as he walked in. "Grow up."

"Says the kid who ran away."

"I was protecting Taeyong from people like you who have it out for him," he began, "plus, it's not as though you did anything productive for three years."

"At least I wasn't out in the woods getting it on with a killer."

"You piece of—"

"Keep your head on, I'm not going to judge you for having fun."

Mark scoffed bitterly. "You have no clue what we've been doing these past three years."

"I'm not sure if I exactly want to know."

"While you were being pampered and spoon-fed by middle-aged men, we were actually fighting to survive."

"Damn, that hurt. I'll have you know I spent three years being pushed around by people, thanks to the publicity mutt got us."

"Mutt?" Mark scowled.

"Yeah, it's a nickname. Like it?"

"I want to punch you so badly right now."

Johnny laughed, turning back to the TV. "I'll take that as a no. You should probably get some help for those anger issues, though."

"I don't have anger issues!" he snapped.

"Right. Did you know pigs can fly?"

He was swore at, just as the door handle was pulled down and the door creaked open. They both turned to look at the door as Taeil walked in, disappointment evident in his expression. His eyes landed on the youngest in the room, as he pushed the door open further. "Mark."

He was about to question the psychiatrist, but then a familiar face walked into the room, followed by two police officers. Johnny watched the scene, sitting up in surprise. There was a long pause of silence in the room.

"Mark Lee," said Detective Kim, "you are under arrest for the assault of Yang Howon."

* * *

_"M-Mark..." Taeyong breathed, sitting up, "you—"_

_The was prompted to be quiet as the younger's eyes widened. His grip loosened on the knife and he stepped back, gasping as he collided with the ground. The body—with a knife wedged into the top of the skull—fell on top of Taeyong and the patient looked down, seeing the blood seep onto his clothes. For a moment, even he couldn't move. He lifted his hand, gripping it around the knife. He pulled it and the man's face soon looked at him. The eyes were still open. Blood was trickling out of his nose, ears, and mouth. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking closely at the face._

_"I think he's dead."_

_Almost immediately, Mark screamed. He looked down at his hands as tears filled his vision, crying loudly as he saw the red substance that covered his hands from before the blade settled in the man's skull. He clenched his fists, leaning forward as the tears streamed down his face. He heard the body's weight shift and Taeyong crouched beside him, placing his arm around his shoulders. Muffling his cries with his bloody hand, Mark turned around. He looked down at the patient's unbuttoned jeans and looked back up at him, teary-eyed. "Did he hurt you?"_

_"No, you came in time."_

_Taeyong shifted onto his knees, turning to face Mark. He wrapped his arms around the younger, moving closer. He heard him cry quietly as he placed his arms around him, too. Mark knew he did the right thing, but he couldn't help the unbearable guilt that he was feeling._

_"I love you, so, so much."_

_"Really?" asked Mark, wiping his eyes as he leaned on the elder's shoulder, "Even more than before?"_

_"A thousand times more than before."_

_Mark shuffled away from Taeyong, looking at him curiously. "Even though I... I killed somebody?"_

_"It would be hypocritical of me to not. I think it shows just how much you care."_

_"Right?"_

_"So don't get angry at yourself. It was just another sacrifice that is necessary."_

_He nodded gently. "Yeah, I think you're right. But still..."_

_"Do you need something to take your mind off it?"_

_"A distraction? Like what?"_

_"Well..." Taeyong began, reaching out for Mark's hand. "I'll help you in any way you want me to."_

_He never imagined that the younger would be capable of doing such a thing. But the more he thought about it, he wasn't sure if it made him feel safe, or if it made him feel vulnerable. He let his gaze avert to the ground as he saw him gulp. A moment later, Mark stood up abruptly. He began to walk over to the boarded window. "Don't do that."_

_"What?"_

_"You're... it sounds like you're offering yourself to me and I don't like that. Why would I even consider that after what just almost happened?"_

_"But, the doc—" Taeyong began, but he looked down, "yeah, you're right, nevermind."_

_"I don't want our relationship to become so... controlling and needy. I want to treat you like you deserve to be treated, not like some object."_

_The patient looked at him, surprised. He'd been so used to people not caring about the effects of their actions on him that it seemed strange. Nonetheless, he smiled and jumped up. He ran and practically threw himself into Mark's arms as nuzzled his face into his neck. "Don't worry about the body, I'll get rid of it."_

_"You're still struggling with your health, I can't let you do that alone. Do you think you can pull him over to the stairs? I saw a shovel outside, I can start digging a hole."_

_"I'll bring him outside," said the elder happily, making Mark chuckle._

_He looked at the body as Taeyong hurried over and kicked it into its back. Seeing the bloody hand fall on the floor made Mark's world fall silent for a long moment. He held his breath, covering his mouth with the back of his hand to stop himself from succumbing to the guilt._

_He deserved it, he did the right thing. It was a one-off. It wouldn't happen again._

_Or, it wasn't supposed to._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was... a lot. Late update (again), but I hope you enjoy!


	15. Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark comes across Ten's workplace by chance and asks him for help. Taeyong is in a downward spiral, and all Taeil can do is watch it happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> May contain triggering content.

It was close to the end of Ten's shift when he heard the bell signal that somebody had walked into the cafe. His gaze shifted from the cup in his hand to the door, and his jaw immediately dropped. Seeing Mark stood by the entrance—looking like he'd just run a marathon—leaning over to catch his breath. The cafe was empty. He raised an eyebrow as the younger hurried over to him and grabbed his arm.

"You have to help me," he panted, looking out of the window, "hide me, please."

"Mark, I—"

" _Please._ "

Ten held his breath, looking back at the counter. He pointed at the door behind it, and Mark immediately hurried into the back room. Ten had been left to lock up, so luckily, he was the only one there. He shuffled into the room behind the younger, abandoning the cup on the counter. "Well, talk. We're not exactly close. What are you running from?"

"Just a friend."

"A 'friend'? I don't have time to facilitate a game of hide and seek."

"Please Ten, just give me a few minutes."

"Tell me why you're running, or I'll go outside and shout for help."

"Fine! I'll talk."

Ten smiled smugly. "Make it quick."

"The police are tailing me."

"Why? If I get caught with you—"

"I may have punched a guy once or twice, it's nothing too serious. It wasn't unprovoked, either."

"You expect me to help somebody who _assaulted_ somebody?"

"Well," said Mark, "your boyfriend is in prison for murder and assault, I don't think one measly assault is particularly bad compared to that."

"Why me?"

The younger sighed, looking down in the dark back room. "Taeil knows, Doyoung's place is quite far from here. I saw you from across the road, it just seemed logical. The cops were on foot, I managed to lose them a few roads back."

"For God's sake, fine. Stay here while I clean up. I'm only helping you because Kun would."

"Thank you."

"You don't mean that. I can see it, you know."

"What?"

"The look in your eyes," said Ten, "they're dark and cold, they remind me of Kun's eyes."

"Strange. I always thought my eyes were on the lighter side."

The elder laughed, making the elder furrow his eyebrows. "Well, do you want a drink while you wait?"

"Drink? No, I'm fine."

Ten returned to the cup and placed it into the sink, continuing to gather the others from around the shop. After a while of wandering between tables and wiping them down, he returned to wash the dirty cups and plates. It was honest work, so he couldn't complain. "So, you said you were provoked?"

"Yeah. He was calling me and Taeyong societal waste, pretty much."

"Ouch. I bet that hurt your pride."

"It did," Mark replied, "but I was mostly annoyed because he implied that I was using Taeyong."

"You're together?"

The younger looked up, surprised. "You didn't know?"

"Xiaojun and Hendery don't really gossip."

"Ah right. You live with them?"

He nodded. "I can't be trusted to live alone."

"Why?"

"What are you, a profiler? Did Taeil tell you anything?"

"Something about anxiety?"

"Sounds about right. Although, it's a little bit worse than just some 'anxiety' these days. But it's nothing I can't fix with Xiaojun's help and some pills."

"Surely working in a cafe doesn't help."

"Anxiety isn't just a social problem, you know. I'm actually quite the social butterfly when I'm in a good mood. It's just a constant feeling of dread because of simple things. Everything just gets blown out of proportion."

"Right."

"But anyway—Taeyong, how is he?"

"From the limited information I get from Taeil and the one meeting we've had, he doesn't seem very good."

"I'd assume not," said Ten, turning around to dry a cup. "I remember when the police took us from Namhyeon. He was only worried about not being able to see you."

That didn't exactly come as a surprise to Mark, but he also hoped that he wouldn't be Taeyong's entire life. Especially because they were both in undesirable situations. "Really? Nothing else?"

"Well, in the back of a police van, you only tend to think about freedom. You're his freedom. You wanted to take him out of the walls and let him have fun, and that was taken away. Of course, he was worried about losing you," he explained. "I was worried about being admitted to an institution, and Yuta was worried about getting a death sentence."

"How does somebody get out of there?"

"Daehak? I'm not sure. I've never been forcefully admitted. I assume you convince them that you're ready to leave."

"There's a catch, that's probably harder than it sounds."

"If it isn't true, then probably."

Mark groaned. It was frustrating. "I just want to be with him again."

"I know the feeling," said Ten, "but I also know that there's a reason why Taeyong and Kun can't be with us, and them both should have a few years out of the face."

"A few _years_?"

"Well, Taeyong might be out quicker than that. It's not as though he's in prison."

"At this rate, I'll be the one in prison."

"You might want to calm your criminal acts. If Taeyong is discharged, he needs somewhere to go. If there's nowhere for him to go—and Taeil might not qualify, especially because he works all day—he'll stay in the system."

"'System'," Mark mocked, "it's just prison with a fancy appeal."

"Nothing is appealing about being in a care situation as an adult. Do you know how demeaning that would be?"

"Having people slave after you? I'm not convinced that's a bad thing."

Ten sighed, placing the final cup back on the shelf, where they are stored. "You're so frustrating and we haven't even been here for half an hour."

* * *

_"I don't know what you're talking about."_

_"Don't act stupid, there are witnesses," said Detective Kim, "the victim is in hospital, and he isn't in good shape."_

_"There isn't a victim, I didn't do anything wrong."_

_"He's got a broken nose, but that's not that bad I suppose. A few bruises. You fractured two of his ribs, if they'd have had any more force applied than they did, they could have pierced his lungs."_

_"Mark... he's not telling the truth; is he?"_

_"Of course not," he scoffed, "they're bluffing because I'm not blindly following their terms."_

_"You need to come to the station with us," said one of the police officers._

_He reached for the younger, but he hit his hand away. Mark stepped back. He had no intentions of being arrested for defending himself and Taeyong. "Why? So you can terrorize me more? I don't think so."_

_"If you resist arrest, the outcome will be worse. Come easy, confess, and we'll see what we can do. The victim is also being questioned, as witnesses reported a rather heated conversation beforehand."_

_"There's no reason to arrest me!"_

_"Mark, please just go with them."_

_"No!" he yelled. "He deserved it!"_

_"Are you confessing to the—"_

_"There's no crime to admit to, he's alive, isn't he?"_

_"Mark Lee," Detective Kim persisted, "come quietly."_

_When the elder approached him, he was pushed back. Taeil watched, wide-eyed as Mark fought his way through the two police officers as they tried to apprehend him and stormed out of the door. He stepped to follow him when the detective held his hands up to stop him._

_"Wait here, I'll call you when we've found him."_

_"But—"_

_"Stay here. If he's agitated, I can't let a civilian get involved."_

_Taeil took a deep breath, clenching his fist. "I'm not just a civilian—"_

_"Legally, you're nothing to him. Wait until we've found him."_

_"Taeil," said Johnny, walking over, "stay here."_

_He grabbed the elder's arm and pulled him into a hug, making eye contact with the detective as the psychiatrist gripped onto his t-shirt._

_"Hurry up, or I'll find him."_

_Detective Kim was the only one who remained. He hurried out of the room and closed the door behind him. Johnny kissed Taeil on the top of the head._

_"He can't have done it, can he?"_

_"Forget him. Let them deal with him."_

_"How can I forget him? I thought he'd finally get through his community service and live as he should have. We should have pushed him away. We ruined his chances of living."_

* * *

There was a rush of confusion from Taeyong when Doctor Jang walked into the padded cell. The patient looked around as if he was expecting Taeil to magically emerge from a corner of the room. When his eyes trailed back to the psychiatrist that was definitely there, he furrowed his eyebrows. He didn't know why decided to visit him.

"Taeyong," said the man, closing the door. "Can we talk for a bit?"

The patient looked around again, just to be sure. He nodded gently. The psychiatrist walked over, and seeing no other option, he sat on the floor. He noted how Taeyong seemed wary of him, even if they'd met before.

"How are you doing?"

"Alright," the younger muttered.

"Can you show me your arms?"

"Taeil checks them."

"I know, I just want to have a look. I'll be quick, I promise."

Hesitantly, Taeyong lifted his arms and held them in the psychiatrist's direction. Doctor Jang looked at him once more before reaching to check, lifting the fabric from his arms. Seeing the mixture of dried and fresh blood among the reddened, tender skin, he frowned. Taeyong avoided his gaze when he looked up again. Without saying a word, he replaced the fabric and checked the other—the right side—to find it wasn't afflicted as badly as the left had been.

"This won't do. We'll have to try something else."

"Something else?" he asked, "Like what?"

The psychiatrist smiled gently, looking at the door. "I'm going to need you to come with me."

"Where to?"

"You're a curious one, aren't you?" he chuckled.

Taeyong pursed his lips into a line, snatching his arms back. Doctor Jang sighed softly, standing up. The patient looked up at him, questioning the sudden movement, and flinched when the man held his hand out for him.

"Come on, the first aid room was empty when I walked past. It'll be quick."

Hesitantly, Taeyong lifted his arm. He paused for a moment, but before he could take his arm back, the psychiatrist got ahold of his hand and gently pulled him from the ground. He stumbled when he got to his feet, but the elder was there to steady him. He seemed different from Taeil. Even to Kun or Sicheng. And he certainly felt different to Doctor Park; gentler, and nicer. He didn't kick him when he hesitated, nor did he raise his voice. Taeil and the others wouldn't, but that was normal for them. But Doctor Jang was practically a stranger.

He felt safe.

He'd been so untrusting of the man in the past, especially when he was strapped onto a hospital bed. It was intimidating, at first, to be around another psychiatrist like him. He felt unnerved by the white doctor's coats and the loud voices when he was in the hospital, but Doctor Jang didn't talk loudly with him, nor did he talk in a demeaning way like people used to. It was somewhat relieving. While Taeyong appreciated that he was seen as different, he hated when people would treat him like a child, even when he was a teenager.

They walked towards the door, and Doctor Jang held him close but didn't tell him to cling onto him as Taeil would. The door was unlocked from the outside, and they stepped out to the small containment room with the security man. Beyond the door, there weren't many people who looked their way. Taeyong heard a few comments, but he looked around for the green sign that Taeil had told him about. He found that it was close to the padded cells, which he hadn't noticed before.

He was walked towards the door. He remembered going there before with Taeil, but at least he knew the man on the inside that time around. After a short wait upon knocking, the door opened, and they were met by a soft smile. "Taeyong, was it? Back again?"

"Can we go inside? I have a request," said Doctor Jang.

"Of course, come on in."

Taeyong was prompted to walk into the room by the psychiatrist and carefully stepped inside. The door was closed abruptly behind him, making him jump, but he soon calmed down once he confirmed that Doctor Jang was still behind him.

"Is this about the head trauma or his arms?"

"Arms," the psychiatrist replied.

"Alright. Taeyong, can you sit down for me? Just where you were last time."

Looking at the chair on the other side of the room, Taeyong hesitated. His legs felt weaker than they were, and the new tingling sensation in his hands was still persisting. Nonetheless, he decided to comply and began to walk over. 

"Now, what is it?" asked the man.

"I think it's time to take this situation seriously. Taeyong needs a more effective barrier," said Doctor Jang, watching as the patient stumbled on his way to the seat.

"What are you thinking?"

"Some padded gloves would be good for now."

"I see," said the man, "I suppose I should clean up the wounds first."

"Please do."

They both walked over to Taeyong as the latter used the table to help him sit down. He sighed, clenching his fist. He looked over as the psychiatrist and the other man walked over. The man took out the same supplies again, and the patient knew what was happening.

* * *

Taeil walked into work exhausted, the next day. He'd been making calls all night, trying to figure out where Mark could have gotten to. To make it worse, he had to see Taeyong first thing, and he would have to explain what had happened. He was sure the younger would be worried about Mark, which would certainly add more pressure for the psychiatrist to find him. It was clear that he wasn't exactly in the best state.

When Taeil reached the containment section of the ward, he raised an eyebrow at how the door to Taeyong's padded cell and the empty cell beside its buffer-room door was open. That meant somebody had to be inside. He sped up, accidentally ignoring greetings that were sent his way as he hurried into the room. He saw that the door to Taeyong's room was cracked open and burst in, without even bothering to check through the cameras or the window beforehand. He almost dropped the file he was carrying when he saw that the patient was being held down by two security officers as Doctor Jang and Mr Nam from the first aid team both attempted to put him in a straitjacket. Taeyong was squirming and shouting, kicking his legs as they gripped onto him.

"What are you doing?" Taeil yelled, running forward.

"Keep back, Doctor Moon. Let us do this."

"This isn't a good idea!" he insisted, "You're hurting him!"

Mr Nam took a side-glance at Taeil and looked back to Taeyong, sighing. They didn't have a choice. "We tried padded gloves, but he tore them off with his teeth."

"Putting him in one of those does more harm than help!"

"It's either this, or we go even more old-style and strap him to a bed—which do you think gives more freedom?"

"You told me about it yourself! Have you forgotten what happened with Doctor Park?"

"Do you want him to tear himself apart? We can't leave him to his own devices!"

"Get off me!" Taeyong yelled, his voice muffled against the floor.

Taeil covered his mouth, sinking down onto the ground. It was all a mess. First Mark, then Taeyong. It was negativity after negativity, and it was getting dangerous. The patient continued to resist as his head was held, turned to the side, while another security officer held his shoulders. His arms were already in the straitjacket's long sleeves. It felt like everything was out of Taeil's hands. He sighed, moving over to Taeyong. He sat by the younger's head and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Calm down, it won't be for long. A few days or so, I promise."

"It won't, I know it won't! You'll keep me in here forever!"

Taeil gritted his teeth as he looked at the security officers and Mr Nam. Doctor Jang was fine, but he didn't know them well enough to figure out whether he could trust them. Still, he decided that comforting the patient was the most important thing. If they went gossiping to Doctor Hak, so be it. He'd deal with that issue if it was to arise. He placed his hand on Taeyong's head and gently ran his fingers through his hair. At first, the patient tried to move his head away, but eventually, his struggling began to cease.

"It's alright," Taeil spoke softly, "nobody is going to hurt you, you're safe."

He felt the younger's eyelashes occasionally flicker against his hand, and Taeyong's head was nudged closer to him. The psychiatrist found himself smiling, but when Doctor Jang and Mr Nam began to move, he quickly wiped the smile off his face and looked up.

"We'll have to have him sit up, to fasten the sleeves."

Taeyong opened his eyes once Taeil had taken his hand away, looking up at the latter with a hint of disappointment. The psychiatrist smiled at him gently. "Can you sit up for a moment?"

Silence filled the room as the security officers moved away from him, and one rushed to block the door. Taeyong fixed a shaky hand on the ground, pushing himself up slowly. The sleeves dangled long past the end of his thin arms, trailing and he sat up. Taeil watched how the patient sent slow, nervous glances at Doctor Jang and Mr Nam as his arms were placed across the front of his body. They were pulled tightly and Taeyong immediately looked down as the sleeves were fastened on his back along with the large buckles. Once everything was in place, they all stepped back, and the patient looked disheartened, lowering himself onto the ground. He lay still as he faced the wall.

"Taeyong," Taeil called as people began to filter out of the room, "do you want to talk?"

The silence on the younger's behalf was unsurprising. The psychiatrist frowned.

"Alright, I'll check on you again on my break."

That gave him some time to spare. He remembered how many of the videos from the open Namhyeon had the patient in a straitjacket, as they gave up moving him between freedom and being restricted due to his tendency to have outbursts and injure staff. He needed some idea of what to expect. He decided to watch one of the videos, just as an insight. He had the time, after all. It wouldn't do anybody any harm.

* * *

Mark was already agitated. After one night of peace, sleeping on the floor of Ten's bedroom—as there wasn't anywhere else to sleep, not where he would be out of the way—he was already being thrown out. Ten argued against it, but Hendery stood in the doorway, his arms crossed against his chest as he looked at them sternly. Mark certainly didn't feel welcomed.

"He can't stay here! If the police come here, me and Xiaojun will end up in trouble, and you and Yangyang will be left alone. We can't risk this! Not to mention, he could easily attack any of us."

"I wouldn't bother."

"So, what? You're going to make him sleep on the streets?" asked Ten.

"He needs to hand himself over to the police. If you don't get out of this house now, Mark, I'm calling the police."

He stood up from the ground quickly, hurrying to the door. He grabbed Hendery by his shirt and caught glimpse of Xiaojun and Yangyang behind him. Xiaojun gently pushed the mute aside and walked over to the door. "Mark, get off him, now!"

"I'll fucking leave, for God's sake!" he yelled.

Yangyang held onto the back of Xiaojun's shirt and tried to pull him back, but the elder persisted until Mark's grip loosened and his arm dropped. He sneered, shaking his head. Of course, he wasn't welcome there. Yangyang had thrown his arms around Xiaojun, and the latter placed a hand over his reassuringly. Hendery stepped out, pointing down the hallway.

"Get out of here, and don't come back."

"Gladly."

Mark stormed out of the room, heading down the hallway and towards the door. He wasn't surprised by their actions. He could only trust one person, and that one person was taken away from him. He pulled up his hood when he left the shelter of the apartment block. He couldn't afford to get arrested. He just had to lay low until people lost interest. And he knew the perfect place to do so.

* * *

Detective Kim stood in a hallway inside of Daehak's fourth ward. His investigative partner, Detective Ahn, was inside of Taeyong's room, questioning him. They were at a standstill with finding Mark. It had originally been him who was going to ask the patient some questions regarding the bodies that had been found with his DNA at the scene, but the older detective stepped in. He knew that Detective Kim was still hesitant about criminalizing Taeyong. 

As he waited for his partner's return, he was approached by Doctor Hak. The man had been the one who authorized them to question the patient, as he'd been in the room when they approached it, after getting past security with their badges. He walked over, standing beside the detective expectantly. "Can I help you, doctor?"

"Is there a particular reason why you are here?"

"I can't share case information with you, I'm afraid."

"Even if the patient is a danger to my staff's safety?"

Detective Kim wouldn't falter, he knew what he was doing. "You have two very competent psychiatrists working with the patient, you've got nothing to worry about."

"Of course," he replied, "but doesn't the law work in a weird way?"

"How so?"

"Murderers are filling up spaces in psychiatric units like this when they should be in prison."

"Surely you shouldn't wish that upon your patients."

"I don't, it's just food for thought."

Detective Kim wasn't convinced.

"But him in particular," Doctor Hak's gaze averted to the door, "don't you think he should have been left where he was?"

"To die, alone?"

"Well, he wasn't alone. Was he? That boy was with him, and he still visits. But you know what they say, 'you can't tame a feral cat.'"

"He's not a cat, he's a person. I'm here for justice for the victims, not to discuss killing a young man with severe problems, who deserves to treated like a human, not a goddamn animal."

"Of course, detective. It was just a joke."

"Something's wrong, Taeyong's acting strange," said Detective Ahn as he looked out of the door.

Doctor Hak laughed, crossing his arms. "He's always strange."

"I'm being serious, doctor."

"How is he acting strange?" asked the supervisor, clearing his throat.

"Shouldn't you be rushing to help a patient?" asked Detective Kim, "Or is there something going on here that we're not aware of?"

"He's not my patient, but Doctor Jang should be somewhere nearby—"

Detective Kim shook his head, blocking Doctor Hak from leaving. "You're here, help him."

"Right, I'll do that. Can you wait outside? He might feel overwhelmed?"

"I'm afraid not, but we'll be quiet."

Something didn't feel right. Detective Ahn looked at his younger partner and sighed. He signalled towards the outside of the small room and the elder soon slipped away, disappearing out of the room. Detective Kim walked into the padded room behind Doctor Hak. He seemed hesitant. He watched as the latter edged towards Taeyong.

The patient was sat against the wall, in the corner of the room. Though he was wearing a straitjacket, his legs were tightly pressed up against his body as he rocked gently. The detective walked closer as Doctor Hak kneeled in front of him. When the latter placed his hand of Taeyong's knee, the patient's gaze shot up, and Doctor Hak immediately seemed to shift back slightly. Taeyong began to breathe heavily. He tried to move away from the supervisor, tears beginning to stream down his face. Detective Kim felt his heart shatter when the patient let out a weak—albeit loud—cry. Doctor Hak's hand retreated.

Without wanting to get too close as to make his presence too obvious, he shuffled closer for a moment. He could hear Taeyong murmur something between quiet cries. He fell almost silent for a moment before he slammed his head back against the wall.

"I'll be good," he heard the patient mutter, "don't hurt me..."

"He's just having a moment, this shouldn't take too long."

"You're not even helping!"

The door opened, and Doctor Jang hurried in. Detective Ahn followed behind him and returned to his partner's side as the newly arriving psychiatrist pushed Doctor Hak aside and took his place. "Everybody, please quiet down or leave."

With a grip on Taeyong's shoulders, Doctor Jang gently shook the patient. The latter let out a sheepish whimper, his body trembling in the psychiatrist's hands. He scrunched up his face and began to tip to the side, only to be pulled back up by Doctor Jang.

"Taeyong, I'm going to get you out of this straitjacket, okay?"

Doctor Hak's eyes immediately widened. "Is that a good idea?"

"It's not helping that he feels restricted. Stand by the door."

"He's dangerous!"

"Are you seriously telling me that he is dangerous now? Open your eyes!"

Taeyong whined at the raised voices and tensed. When Doctor Jang's hand moved to undo the buckles on the back of the jacket, he began to squirm again. He tried to move away from him but was trapped. He had nowhere to run. Feeling the straitjacket fall looser on his body, he managed to pull his arms from the sleeves and though he tried to move, he was held in place.

"Wait! What's that?"

The jacket was pulled completely from him and he was left with only a thin white t-shirt underneath. He wrapped his arms around his legs as Doctor Jang's attention was taken by the others in the room. When he turned back around, the psychiatrist reached out for him, making Taeyong panic. Before he could move away, somebody stepped in front of him and stopped him from getting past. His t-shirt was lifted, and he clenched his eyes shut as those in the room looked at his lightly bruised back.

"Doctor Jang, what is this?" Doctor Hak yelled, "Is this why you put him in that jacket, to hide bruises?"

"He wasn't like this yesterday."

The detectives looked between each other and then back to Taeyong, who was given some more space. He immediately retreated into the corner and began to scratch at his arm, staring blankly at the wall.

"That could be an outright lie. You and Doctor Moon have been sneaking around lately."

"Will all due respect," the psychiatrist began, "Taeyong has been showing fear of you for a while now."

"Are you implying that _I've_ done something, here? I don't have the time, nor would I _want_ to waste my energy. Why would I harm a patient?"

"I never said that you would."

"You meant it, I'm not a fool, Doctor Jang."

Detective Kim cleared his throat. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to contact somebody about an investigation into violence against patients. We'll have to leave the questioning to another day."

"Investigation?" Doctor Hak yelled, "he could have fallen!"

"With his weight, he'd hardly bruise if he had. Expect a call in the next few days."

As they filtered out of the room, Doctor Jang glanced over to the supervisor. He scowled as the elder muttered to himself. The elder soon turned around and crossed his arms, looking furious as the psychiatrist stood in front of the patient. Taeyong had fallen silent and hid his face as he tightly wrapped his arms around his legs.

"Contact Doctor Moon, we need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about. The truth always comes out," said Doctor Jang.

"Go and find him," the supervisor ordered, "you might think you're a hotshot, but while you're working here, you respond to me."

"Why would I leave the patient to you, after this?"

Doctor Hak sighed bitterly. "Because, if you do not, I'll be contacting the higher-ups, and you'll be relocated. Wouldn't that be bad for your polished image?"

Doctor Jang gritted his teeth. He was left with no choice. He needed to remain there, or things could spiral out of control. He didn't want to leave a patient in harm's way, but if he lost the job, he definitely would. He couldn't risk it, for the long term. "I'll see you at your office, then."

Taeyong lifted his gaze as he heard the psychiatrist walk to the door. He tightened his grip on his arm, sinking his nails in deeper to the skin. When Doctor Hak turned around, he felt his blood run cold. The man scoffed at the sight but walked towards the door. The patient was about to relax, but before he could, the door was closed, with him on the inside. Doctor Hak turned back around and approached him. Taeyong's heart was racing, and he quickly stood up, stumbling over to the other side of the room. He was backed into a corner.

"You're pathetic. You all are."

The patient pushed himself against the wall. He already felt so exhausted, he just wanted to collapse onto the floor and forget about everything. When the man kneeled in front of him, he watched him carefully. He held his breath when he reached forward and gripped onto his jaw.

"But you're the worst of them all."

* * *

_"You're a piece of filth!"_

_Taeyong lay on his side, blood spilling onto the floor from his nose. It was probably going to stain the floor. He held his clenched fist beside his head and whined, turning slightly onto his back. He met Doctor Park's gaze and clenched his eyes shut. The psychiatrist shook his head, laughing. Taeyong was tired. He woke up disorientated and cold, he remembered fear, and he did remember collapsing. Everything felt slow. He wanted to get up and vent his frustration at the man before him, but he couldn't even lift himself off of the ground._

_He held his breath when Doctor Park lowered himself onto the ground. The patient flinched when a hand lightly tapped his face, and the man grinned at him. "You keep misbehaving, and you know what will happen."_

_He felt sick._ _Later that night, he lay alone, bruised and revealed. He crawled over to the corner and curled up, falling asleep feeling the cold air against his skin. He dreamed it all over again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update on time for once, yay!  
> I tried to keep that little slice at the end moderate, _that_ is dark territory I'm trying to keep to a minimum.


	16. Relocation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An investigation is opened in Daehak, which requires changes to be made. Taeyong and Mark both have to move to new locations, but like always, it isn't that simple.

Both Taeil and Doctor Jang sat in a room in front of Taeyong, watching the younger as he refused to look at them. He was seeming far more distant than usual, his gaze drifting as he held onto his legs and tapped his left foot against the ground.

"Taeyong," said the younger psychiatrist, moving his arm to get ahold of the patient's arm, but the latter's gaze shot up and he shuffled further away. "We need you to talk to us, who gave you those bruises?"

Taeyong gripped onto his arm, his gaze drifting from the elder. He didn't want to be there. He'd rather have left the issue and have been left alone.

"Hey," Taeil repeated, gently tapping him, "don't space out, we need you here."

"We aren't going to get anywhere like this," said Doctor Jang.

Taeil held his breath. Of course, they wouldn't. "Do you have a better idea, Doctor Jang?"

"I—" the elder shook his head, "—I don't."

"Taeyong, if you tell us, we can make sure that whoever did it is punished."

It wasn't a matter of not knowing who did it. It was obvious. However, they needed proof if any action was going to be taken. Doctor Jang kept his phone on a desk, with a voice recorder open. But the patient was clearly still distressed. On the inside, his heart was pounding. 

Taeil sighed softly as the turned to face Doctor Jang. They made eye contact for a moment, but before anything could be said, there was a gentle knock on the door. Expectantly, they turned around. Even Taeyong looked over to the door as he tightened his arms around his legs.

When the door opened, the psychiatrists were both silent for a moment. Seeing two men at the door, the patient looked to Taeil, expecting some sort of information, but he got none.

"Doctor Moon, Doctor Jang."

There was tension in the room that even Taeyong could detect. He looked at the two men—one was wearing a doctor's coat, while the other wore a suit. He was taken aback when both psychiatrists stood up, and Taeil bowed, with Doctor Jang soon following.

"You're already aware of the situation, so I'll make this quick," said the suited man, "due to policy, you can't continue to care for the Lee Taeyong until the investigation is closed."

"But he really doesn't do well with strangers," said the younger psychiatrist.

"The patient's safety is the top priority. We can't keep him assigned to you two."

Taeyong's eyes widened. He didn't want to be put with somebody else—not then, not ever. He shook his head, looking up. He caught the man in the doctor's coat's gaze for a second, and gripped onto Taeil. The psychiatrist turned around. At first, he gently covered the patient's hand with his own, but when he pulled it away and let go, Taeyong felt dread immediately begin to coarse through his veins.

"Doctor Kim here will be taking over his care. Surely you remember him, he was your senior in university, Doctor Moon."

"I remember," Taeil nodded, "but... this isn't a good idea."

"This isn't up for discussion. Lee Taeyong will be transferred to Doctor Kim's care for the time being, and he will be relocated into the psychiatric intensive care unit until further notice. He can't be in the same space as any of you, I'm afraid."

"I-I can't," Taeyong muttered, "you can't take me!"

He looked the suited man dead in the eye, glaring as he looked back at him. He wasn't going anywhere without putting up a fight, first. Taeil turned around, placing his hands on the patient's arms. Taeyong looked up at him, tears forming in his eyes. The psychiatrist caressed his arm softly with his thumb and sighed. "It won't be for long, trust me. They just need to ask everybody on this floor some questions and look through a few things."

"I don't want to..."

"This is for you. You might like it there, it's nicer than here, and you won't be in a padded cell."

"I want to stay here!"

"You can't," said Taeil, "trust Doctor Kim, he knows what he's doing."

Taeyong didn't want to trust anybody else. He learned that people hardly ever have good intentions, everybody just waits for an opportunity to show who they really are. He didn't want to go through that again. But he couldn't do anything as Taeil turned away again. Nobody would listen.

"Doctor Moon, I assume you have information you want to give Doctor Kim. Please do that right away. We have to begin the move."

Taeyong watched as Taeil looked at him one final time before stepping out of the room. He was left alone again.

* * *

There was only one place on the entire site of Daehak that Taeil had never stepped foot inside, and that was the psychiatric intensive care unit. It was its own building; a single-floored, medium-sized building. He remembered being taught about them, back in university. He, Sicheng and Kun had even joked about wanting to go to one themselves. It was a relatively recent addition to Daehak. They were far nicer and easier on patients, and they were regarded as being the best location to recover from a tough time inside of.

But finally being faced with the building, the psychiatrist couldn't help but stare in awe. There were no heavy doors, iron bars or security staff. Even the entrance seemed much more homelike, having plants and photos around the small room where the sign-in book was. Beside him, Doctor Kim signed the book, and they were both met with a bright smile from the receptionist which almost made Taeil second-guess her intentions. The door let out a confirmation beep as Doctor Kim held his ID over the small device fixed on the wall, and they were in. 

Beyond the hallway that they walked into, there was a room with tables and seating scattered around. A small group of patients occupied the space, all looking surprisingly cheerful. When they walked into the room, they never even bothered to look in their direction. Taeil followed Doctor Kim down another hallway, but soon, they were at an office with the elder's name on the door. He still felt someone relieved to be behind a door once they got inside.

"I didn't think I'd meet you again," said the older psychiatrist, sitting down on the couch in the corner of the room, "but it's a pleasure."

Taeil was taken aback when he held out his hand, but soon decided to shake it, and sat down beside him.

"Kim Junmyeon, in case you've forgotten," he said. "I missed the ordeal with you and your little misfit family, but I have to say that I was quite impressed when word spread over here."

"You'd be one of the few," Taeil replied.

"I'm being serious," said Doctor Kim, "I really admire that about you, you've persisted with them, all this time."

The younger psychiatrist chuckled, "thanks."

"So, I know I'm going to need your help. I can't ignore all of your work. I don't intend to keep Taeyong in here for too long, I understand he might not enjoy it here."

"From what I've seen, it looks far nicer than where he's been in years. Maybe even his whole life."

To that, Junmyeon frowned. "Perhaps."

"Well, is there anything specific you want to know?"

"How is he with people? Like, if you were to put him out there right now, with the other patients, what would he do?"

"I'm not sure. He'd probably just keep to himself, or even stay in his room. He doesn't really have that pull to interact."

"But he wouldn't be aggressive?"

"Not unless he feels threatened, but we've had a few issues recently. But, with everything going on, I think it's fair to say he wasn't exactly being treated nicely at the time, so he was protecting himself."

"We don't have any preexisting issues with aggression, here. Everybody has bad days, but other than shouting, they're all relatively friendly with each other. I think—as long as Taeyong understands he can leave whenever he feels like it—this might be good for him. Plus, we have staff that do activities with the patients to keep them busy. This building is like a little village within itself, there's a bit of everything."

Taeil nodded, it certainly seemed that way. "Is there outdoor access?"

"We have a garden and a court for sports. It's nothing huge, just a smaller version of the one for ward one in the main building."

"You'll have some struggles getting Taeyong inside. He'd live outside if you let him."

"He's the outdoor type?" asked Junmyeon.

"You're surprised? I think he enjoys being outside so much because it reminds him of when he was still living on the farm. Even though he was with his abusive father then, he was still free. He could do whatever he wanted."

"I expected a more reclusive indoors type of person, I'll be honest. But this helps. I might even be able to meddle and find somebody who can try to get through to him."

Taeil hummed. "I'll trust your judgement, but there's something that you should know."

"Go ahead."

"Due to the neglect and abuse from his father in his childhood," he said, "Taeyong seems to struggle with forming connections with people, and he does have limits when it comes to his empathetic response."

"So, we might have trouble in the social department," Junmyeon sighed, "I've heard he has a close friend."

"Friend? Oh, you must mean Mark. They're close, but they're a bit more than friends."

"I see. Will he be visiting?"

Taeil wished he could, because Mark could convince Taeyong that he's in good hands—but if the younger appeared there, he'd be arrested. "He's in a bit of trouble these days, so I'm not sure."

"Alright, we'll have to work closely with Taeyong. With a bit of luck, he might gain some confidence while we're at it. Does he have any hobbies? I understand he's got limited experiences, but surely there's something."

"When he was younger, he liked to draw. He can't read or write, and he was scared of the TV and radio in my house. There isn't much to work with."

"There's a TV in the social room, I'll have to request that it remains quiet until he settles."

"One question," said Taeil, "what's the yard like?"

"The yard?" asked Junmyeon.

He looked around his office, and approached a filing cabinet with some framed photographs on the top. He picked one up, and handed it to the younger psychiatrist. Taeil looked at it. There were two patients in the photo, but in the back, there were some small trees, plants and flowers, and an artificial waterfall. Just like a cleaner version of Namhyeon. But rather than being trapped within four walls, fences were containing the relatively large area.

"That beats all of the weeds and moss in Namhyeon."

Junmyeon chuckled. "I'm glad."

"But, one worry. Well, two, actually. You might want to keep an eye on Taeyong outside."

"Naturally, we would. But can I ask why?"

"The trees. Now, obviously, Taeyong isn't at his best physically right now. But he's gaining weight and the strength that he'd lost. He's a really good climber. Alternatively, he will dig if you leave him unattended."

A sigh escaped the older psychiatrist's lips, but it soon faded into a chuckle. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind. We'll probably have a nurse or two assigned to him, so he'll always have somebody around. We have to accompany him around the building while he settles anyway."

"One final thing, and if you don't have any more questions, I'll let you read his file and return to the main building," said Taeil, "we didn't get to finish with diagnosing him, but we have substantial evidence to support that Taeyong has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."

Junmyeon nodded, that didn't seem too far-fetched.

"We've had various situations when he's had an episode and dissociated, but one similarity I've noticed is that older men seem to trigger his episodes, given that his father and Doctor Park were both older, and there was a more recent situation where he was almost sexually assaulted but Mark saved him."

"We have some older patients."

"So—I don't think I need to tell you this—but just be careful. He's been in a non-stop cycle of neglect, abuse and hatred. He doesn't deserve to go through it all again."

The elder nodded. "I'd like to keep you involved with him, so is it alright if I contact you for further information or to propose ideas that I have?"

"Of course! But we'll have to lay low until the investigation is done. I don't want you to get into trouble with management for keeping me in the loop."

"Well, as long as we're careful. Plus, you are important in Taeyong's life. They can't cut you out."

"I just hope they see that."

Junmyeon nodded. "Oh, before you leave, do you want to check up on him? Do you have anything to say to him?"

"I suppose I should."

"He was sent with some nurses to tidy him up a little, but they should be back."

The older psychiatrist stood, and Taeil followed. Once they were beyond the door, the latter continued to look around. It was certainly more cosy and homelike. He managed to catch a glance of the door to the outside, seeing the light flood in. He didn't see why Taeyong wouldn't like being there.

They walked down one of the wide hallways, and soon, Junmyeon turned around. "He'll just be in this room, here."

Taeil walked down the hallway, and seeing that the door was open, he peeked inside to see Taeyong was sat at the desk, his face buried in his folded arms. But the psychiatrist was met by a small surprise. They'd somehow managed to cut the patient's once bushy black hair, making it look far neater, and shorter. He smiled gently, and walked into the room. He tapped on the desk, and after a few moments, Taeyong looked up.

"You look fresh."

"My head is cold now, they ruined my warmth," he complained.

"Don't you feel cleaner?"

He shook his head. "it tickles."

"I'm sure It'll get better," Taeil chuckled, "did they let you shower?"

"The woman told me I could tomorrow, they need to arrange something."

"I see. Have you calmed down a little?"

"I still don't want to be here," Taeyong replied, frowning, "but I just have to listen and do what I'm told."

"Taeyong..."

"Don't you have other people to see?"

Taeil nodded lightly. "I do. But don't think like that, if you feel uncomfortable—don't do it. Tell them that you don't like it."

"I know, you've said that before."

"I mean it!" said the psychiatrist, "Don't let anybody ignore your wishes."

"I won't."

Taeil just wished that he could trust the younger to actually listen, but he was concerned that he wouldn't. He reached forward and ruffled Taeyong's short hair and smiled. "It's about time somebody cut off all of that hair. The tiny snippets that Sicheng could cut before you refused to sit still didn't do much."

"It feels weird."

"It will," the elder replied, "I bet Mark will like it."

Taeyong's eyes immediately lit up, and Taeil remembered what he was there to say. Before he could speak, the patient sat up. "Can Mark visit me?"

"About that... Mark got into a little bit of trouble. He might not be able to visit for a while."

"What happened?"

"A little fight, nothing huge. But he's hiding from the police."

"Did he win?"

"Taeyong, it's wrong. It isn't about winning."

The patient frowned. "But if he won, he won't be hurt."

"He isn't hurt. I'm going to find him and try to help the situation, but he's sly. You taught him all of your best hiding techniques."

* * *

It was already dark when Mark reached the place he planned to stay the night. It was non-other than Namhyeon, in all of its nostalgic beauty—or lack thereof—and, to his luck, it was unguarded. It had definitely been in decline in recent years, held up by scaffolding and still as grim as the day he first stumbled upon it in his youth. He didn't even know if he'd be able to get inside, and if he could, it would likely be a challenge. But it was one he was willing to face. He didn't have much choice. He'd been thrown on the street, though he couldn't really blame Hendery and Xiaojun. He did understand, and they were nothing more than acquaintances.

Mark slipped through a dislodged fence panel, pushing it back to cover his tracks. He doubted people would recognise him, but he was sure the police would check there. It just made sense. He was counting on their search being pretty sloppy, or at least not thorough, as he planned to set up a place to stay higher in the building. Seeing the state of the facility, he was hoping the police would settle on searching the first two floors, while he'd be on the third. Assuming it hadn't completely collapsed, that is. As a five-story building (that is, including the maintenance floor, at the top of the building), a lot of strain would be put on the middle floor. It had to hold two further floors and a roof while sheltering those below from those floors that didn't manage.

He wouldn't have chosen to go back if he wasn't desperate. While it was an extremely meaningful place—for Mark, at least, as he'd found his place there—it wasn't exactly one's dream home. The windows were shattered and covered with plywood, the floor was weak and rough from elemental damage, and worst of all, the roof was a floor lower than it should have been. It was ridden with spiders, rodents and possibly every other insect imaginable, and there was no soft rugs, warm beds or running water. Perhaps others would make it work, but somebody on the run? Mark couldn't exactly stroll into a convenience store and buy food, and he wasn't a survival expert. All he knew was what Taeyong told him. _"The red berries make you sick, don't eat them."_

He knew what not to eat—practically everything—but not what he could eat. He wasn't like Taeyong. He wouldn't take a risk, even if it could help him survive. He even felt like he was going to throw up when the patient told him how sometimes he'd find plants around the farm and would eat them, only to spit them out when they tasted, as Taeyong said, _"too bitter, and momma said bitter isn't good"._

Mark's stomach was screaming at him already, and he'd hardly been out for a few hours. He had to be cautious in the city, as police officers were dotted around everywhere. When he eventually got to the outskirts, he'd never been so relieved in his life. Navigating to Namhyeon was fairly easy.

He looked around before he reached the building, checking for anybody watching. It seemed awfully quiet. He wrapped his fingers around the usual wooden board and pulled, only for it to hardly budge. Of course, they sealed it. If he was lucky, one would be dislodged, and the police wouldn't check it. He was let down over and over again as he tried to find a way inside. Mark sighed harshly, kicking the wall. He shrunk down to a crouch and leaned against the cracked wall. Luck wasn't on his side. He looked past the fence surrounding the building and into the forest behind it. It was getting dark.

He couldn't sleep in the forest, he knew that. There was no way he'd get any sleep surrounded by trees, darkness, and animals. He didn't want to wake up feeling a nibble at his finger and find a rat trying to eat him alive. That was one of his worst nightmares. It was less likely to happen inside than out. He looked around again, and found the fenced yard that Taeyong had mentioned was locked. He stood up, and walked over. It wasn't quite as overgrown as the one encaved by four walls, but the gravel floor had grass and weeds sprouting among it.

As Mark looked around, he heard crunching and snapping of twigs beside him. His head briskly snapped in the sound's direction, and he sighed in relief when he saw Doyoung, stood cross-armed with a look of disappointment on his face. "You're _so_ predictable."

"I don't have much choice," he replied.

"You do," said Doyoung, "you could hand yourself in, explain your side of the story."

"And end up in prison? No thanks, I'll pass."

"Do you not think the police will look here? Where were you last night?"

"I stayed with Ten, but I was kicked out. The police won't go on the higher floors, will they?"

"You're stupid. There's a reason why they won't, because it's dangerous."

"Well, so am I according to literally everyone I come in contact with."

Doyoung sighed, shaking his head. "I don't think you are."

"That's because you don't know everything," Mark replied.

"But I know the real Mark."

"I'm glad you do, but I don't even know who I am anymore," the younger replied.

"Well, moving on from the identity crisis, do you have a way inside?"

Mark looked at the building, "no, it's all boarded."

"Listen, I know this might sound a little... reckless," said Doyoung, "but have you tried looking higher?"

"What do you mean?"

"I can't take you in, because of Jaehyun, but I will help you. Look up."

Mark looked around, and initially, he didn't know what Doyoung was talking about. When he looked closer, though, his eyes fell on the small outhouse, attached to what would have been the kitchen. It was only one floor tall, and there was a bin positioned beside it. A worthy step.

"You want me to do some sort of ninja stuff?"

Doyoung chuckled. "More like, climb up there, and look at the window."

"Look at the window?"

He did, and he caught on to what the elder meant. It was boarded, but it had been broken. The top was missing, and though it was at an angle, he could probably fit through the gap.

"You're a genius," said Mark, jogging over to the bin.

"No, you're just stupid."

"I'll take that."

Doyoung watched as the younger pulled himself up onto the bin. The low roof would be one problem, as it was probably slippy. Once he was onto the bin, he pulled himself onto the roof with a struggle.

"Tell me what's up there."

Mark hummed in response, and carefully walked over the roof, holding onto the stone ridge below the window as he stepped along the surface. He pulled himself over to the window and looked through, swatting a spider web before he stuck his head inside. Doyoung was looking up at him, waiting for some sort of a response, but Mark was silent. Long moments passed.

"Mark?"

"Y-Yeah?"

"What's up there?"

He didn't know where to start. The room right in front of him was ransacked from top to bottom. A drawers unit had obviously been pried open, and the drawers were in pieces along the floor and the main body was in a similar state. The was a chair half in the room, but the actual top of it was miraculously missing, along with another, albeit more basic chair. None of that really shocked him, at first. The old computer was destroyed, and the door had been opened with something, likely a hammer. There was another room, like an extension to the office, away from the actual exit.

The second room—though half out of sight, hidden behind a wall—was different. The door had been metal, and large, but it was on the floor rather than on its hinges, and also damaged by a tool. The wall and the floor in the room immediately set dread into Mark's entire body. And sure, it wasn't unfamiliar to see in a psychiatric facility, but some of the floor and wall was tainted a deep red. Dried blood, and very old. He could see a strap, white and long, attached to further fabric. It was also bloodstained.

He turned around to face Doyoung, who was about to climb up himself, but stopped upon seeing Mark move. "You need to see this. I'm going in."

"Wait— Mark, help me up!"

He ignored the elder, and looked behind the wooden board. It was still bolted in place, but it was loose. He pulled it, but rather than pulling the entire board, another piece of the wood snapped off. He threw it inside and continued to pull at it until Doyoung was beside him, annoyed. The latter watched Mark climb inside and groaned.

"You could have helped me, you know. You might have lived a hard life, but I'm still incredible civilized and can't climb up buildings."

"You got up fine, didn't you?"

"That isn't the point."

Doyoung followed as Mark got inside. He walked over the broken cabinet and looked at the trail of blood leading out of the room. Part of it was hidden underneath the fallen metal door, but the rest was clear. Very old, Mark assumed.

"You know, I felt a chill the second I got inside of here," said Doyoung, "I don't like it, I can feel the fear."

"I thought you weren't the spiritual type? Mr Logic."

"I'm not, but I don't feel right in here."

Mark walked over the metal door and looked down. Scratch marks, and light intents. Those would have been from the inside of the door, rather than the outside. His eyes averted beside the broken cabinet, and landed on a small device. He knelt before it, ignoring Doyoung's noises of disapproval.

"What is it?" he asked.

"How am I supposed to know? You're the university student here."

Doyoung walked up beside him, and, kicking broken wood away, he crouched. Mark pulled the machine—rectangular in shape—away from the wall, and turned it over to see a smashed screen. There were various buttons and dials, but none seemed to give much insight. The labels were scratched away or peeling off, without any ink remaining. But they could both make out one remaining sticker. A safety warning. Mark didn't recognize it, but Doyoung's eyes widened.

"High voltage," he deducted, "you might not want to touch it."

"Why? It doesn't have power."

"But it might have been used on your boyfriend."

Mark's hand was immediately pulled away, allowing the machine to fall back. "It's... one of those?"

"You were expecting a chair, weren't you?"

The younger nodded.

"This is the twenty-first century, nowhere uses electric chairs. This would be plugged into something else, something that links to the body—"

"Alright, you can shut up now."

"It makes sense," Doyoung hummed, turning around. "The blood... the room."

"Do you think this was Taeyong's room?"

Mark stood up, and he looked in the other room. He hesitantly walked into the room, taken aback by how he sunk ever so slightly into the soft—albeit bloody and damp from rain—floor. Doyoung followed, and there it was. The straitjacket was lying on the floor as though it was thrown haphazardly, rather than placed. Whoever put it there was in a rush, or they simply didn't care, and just wanted the item of clothing gone. The blood was concentrated in the middle of the room, but there were some odd splatters around the entire room.

"Don't you think that's strange?" asked Doyoung.

"What now?"

The elder pointed at the blood on the floor, and edged closer. But not without covering his nose and mouth first. "What the hell is that stench?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe corpse and damp?" Mark mocked.

"The doctor didn't die in here," he replied, "Jaehyun told me it was in the hallway, by the stairs."

"What a lovely conversation."

"But anyway—the smell wasn't what I was getting at. Look at the blood."

Mark looked closer, moving around the stain to be further into the room. He knelt beside it, trying to stay away from the straitjacket. "What am I looking at?"

"Unfold the jacket."

"Are you being serious? I'm not touching that!"

"I'm trying to figure out what happened. Don't you think there would be more blood here, in the centre, if he was stabbed standing up?"

"What are you getting at?"

"The jacket was drenched in blood, that's obvious. If we think about how thin Taeyong is—"

"It looks as though he was lying on the floor, right?" Mark continued.

"Exactly. That could mean a few things, don't you think? He could have been asleep—or faking it—or there could have been a fight before, and he was knocked over..." Doyoung began. "Hey! Are you listening to me?"

He saw it again. The body, falling on top of Taeyong, with a knife wedged in its skull. The patient looked at him, and Mark felt a tap.

"Hello? Are you still here?" asked Doyoung, "What is it? You looked like you were about to freak out."

"It's nothing."

"No, it must have been something. You can talk to me, you know?"

Mark moved, turning to sit down against the wall, where there was no blood. He clenched his fist and sighed. Doyoung moved beside him and sat down, waiting. "If I did something... really bad, would you hate me?"

"It depends what we're talking about."

"If I... protected Taeyong, then."

"Protecting somebody is admirable, but something tells me you're only giving me half a story here."

"When we ran away and found a place to stay, I left to collect wood for a fire, and left Taeyong in the house to wrap his wounds."

"Right, makes sense."

"I wasn't gone for too long, I don't think. But I took some of our supplies with me. I felt some food, water, you know, just in case. But when I came back, he wasn't alone."

Doyoung looked at his friend in silence. He didn't like where the story was going.

"There was this old guy with his filthy hands all over him, about to... you know."

"What did you do?"

"At first, I didn't know what to do. I froze up, and just stood there, contemplating what I could do. I was going to confront him, but then what if he got me too? Those type of thoughts, but then I remembered that I had a knife."

Doyoung's eyes widened.

"I killed him."

"Y-You... killed him?"

"I keep seeing it happen, over and over again. Every time I sleep, I see it again. I see how helpless Taeyong is without me, and the body. It fell on top of him, and the blood w-was everywhere."

"Mark—"

"And then I see him out in the woods, covered in filth, limping as somebody chased him. His face... he was terrified. He fell, and I jumped out. I slit somebody's throat."

"How many people have you killed?" asked Doyoung urgently, looking at the younger with wide eyes.

"Just two."

"Are you being honest with me? No more? Just those two?" asked the elder, "What about Taeyong? Has he killed anyone else?"

Now that, he couldn't answer. That was too risky. "No, he had other things to worry about."

"Right? That makes sense..."

"So, do you hate me now?"

Doyoung sighed, looking down. "No, because I know other people would do that for those they care about, too. But that doesn't make it any less wrong."

That was better than what he expected, but at the same time, Mark still felt as though Doyoung seemed a little more tense. Which made sense.

"But Mark," said the elder, "you've changed, and I'm not sure if it was for the better."

"No explanation as to how?"

To that, Doyoung only smiled, and he stood up. "I should probably get back to check on Jaehyun. Don't worry, I won't tell anybody what happened, and I'll keep your location a secret. I'd love to look around with you, but I have an alcoholic at home and an essay to complete."

"Well... I'll see you another day, I suppose."

The elder nodded, and climbed back out of the window, disappearing from view.

* * *

Taeyong looked around as he was lead to a door by a young woman, and was handed a towel. He turned to her, expecting her to speak. He tightly gripped onto his crutch as he felt his hand tingle gently.

"Do you need any assistance?" she asked.

He shook his head, scowling. "I'm not useless, I don't need your help."

"In that case, I'll be waiting here for your return. Shout if you need anything, it should be quiet in the showers now."

Taeyong turned away, making his way into the room. He cautiously placed the crutch down on the tiled floor, and looked over the room. There were four stalls, and one was occupied. The very thought of showering in the same room as somebody else shouldn't have been so fear-inducing, but it was. He couldn't do it. He wasn't going to put himself in a situation which could easily have taken a turn for the worse. Though it hurt to do so, Taeyong walked back to the woman and nervously tapped his crutch lightly on the ground.

"Have you changed your mind?"

"There's somebody in there... I don't want to risk it."

For a moment, she didn't seem to catch on, but when she did, she nodded. "Alright, but you still don't want my help?"

He shook his head.

"Follow me, there is another shower. Just one alone. Had you needed help, I'd have taken you there, but I'll let you use it and I'll wait outside."

That was better than nothing. He was surrounded by strangers, he couldn't just trust them. Especially there of all places. When they came to a stop, he clenched his eyes shut.

"Are you alright?"

Opening his eyes, Taeyong glanced at the woman, and the door that had been unlocked. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I said I was fine," he snapped.

"Alright, I'm sorry. Please shower, I'll be here once you've finished."

He walked into the room, and looked back as the door closed behind him. He wished that he was with Taeil instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Successful update, yay! I was late (I do that often don't I?) but I hopebyou enjoyed!


	17. Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark spends a night in Namhyeon, but not all goes to plan. Taeyong gets a taste of freedom in the ward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The warnings have been updated, and I want to forewarn that there will be potentially triggering implications in this chapter (the first section, it's not graphic or descriptive, it's briefly brushed over.)

Mark hadn't been able to sleep at all. He ventured further than the two rooms he'd seen but found himself in a small court of four padded rooms. The exit out to the actual hallway was blocked by fallen debris and an unstable ceiling, which was hanging down with wires exposed. But the building was frozen in time. The only movement that was made came from Mark and the dust on the ground. There was no further crumbling, but he was still on edge.

The night was filled to the brim with noises and creaks from the building, the humming of birds and scurrying above. Mark _tried_ to sleep in an office but stayed as far from the room he assumed was Taeyong's, in the past. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep there, but on the other side of the small court beside a boarded window? He thought he'd have more of a chance. Clearly, he was wrong.

At first, he'd woke up some time close to midnight. It was extremely dark, and it didn't particularly bother Mark, as he'd grown used to it. But it was cold. _Very_ cold. He didn't exactly have luxury, and he tried all he could to warm himself up. Blowing his hands, moving into the corner, pulling his legs up to his chest to make his body smaller. At one point, he considered moving into another room—namely, a padded room—but the more he considered it, the more he doubted the cleanliness of them. The one close to him appeared clean, but that didn't mean it was. At least he couldn't be fooled by dust on the concrete floor.

He managed to sleep for an hour or so, after that. But when he closed his eyes, he heard something which made his entire body freeze up. Crying. It was muffled, but it sounded familiar and fairly young. He knew his mind was playing with him. Mark clenched his fist. Maybe it was the wind. Lying so long with his eyes closed, he was able to force himself asleep.

But even that wasn't smooth sailing.

After a while, he opened his eyes. It was light. _Too_ light. He sat up and looked around. The room he was in was empty. Mark stood up, and he felt almost weightless. It didn't take long for him to realize he was dreaming. Curiously, he stepped out of the room he was in. Outside, the thin hallway was quiet. But he was quick enough to see somebody walk out of the door. He only saw their back, and they were gone within seconds.

He turned toward the familiar room, but his attention was taken by the opened window. There was a thin grid over the inside, forced shut by a padlock. Namhyeon must have been open. He looked out of the window and across to the fenced yard, where he caught a glance of a familiar face. Jaehyun, leaning against the fence with a bloody lip. Nobody had ever mentioned him getting into trouble with the other patients.

Mark turned back to the room, but the door was closed. He moved closer and looked through the glass. The room was tidy, and the cabinet was all in one piece. The machine wasn't there, though. When Mark went to open the door, he was taken aback when his hand phased right through it. Definitely a dream. He walked through and looked closer in the room. There was a calendar on the wall. _August 2015._ That meant Taeyong would have been sixteen. Mark hesitated as he looked at the metal door. He didn't know what to expect.

He walked closer and peered inside. Something didn't feel right. He couldn't see anybody inside. He raised an eyebrow and walked through the door. There he was. Shorter than the adult version—obviously—and he was sat in the corner. He had a red mark on the side of his face, and the closer he looked, Mark also noticed red around his wrists. The button-up and trousers he was wearing were clearly not made for somebody his age. The shirt hung below his collarbone, and there was a bruise tainting the skin.

Mark continued to stare, even though it felt wrong, but he was taken aback when young Taeyong turned toward him and looked up at him in surprise. Panic grew on his face, and he shuffled away, hurrying into the back corner. It didn't make sense, surely he couldn't interact. Mark furrowed his eyebrows and moved closer, getting onto his knees. The eyes that looked back at him weren't those intimidating eyes he'd seen years ago, they were terrified.

"Taeyong?"

Mark waited for a while, but then he remembered. He couldn't respond. Mark sighed, looking at Taeyong, but then he heard the door click behind him. He turned around and saw a large, old man walk into the room. He wore a doctor's coat and held a small box in his hand. He heard Taeyong let out a fearful whine behind him, and instinctively shielded him. He felt hands grip onto him from behind, and Taeyong buried his face into his back. But the man standing in front of them didn't seem to acknowledge his presence.

"What are you doing?" he said, walking closer.

Mark clenched his fist as the man grew closer, and when he was close, he punched outward. But his hand phased straight through him. Taeyong's presence soon disappeared from behind him, and Mark stood up to watch what was happening. He held his breath as the doctor held onto Taeyong's thin arm. It was merely to keep him in place as he opened the box in his grip and two pills were dropped into his grip.

"H-Hey, don't give him them!" Mark yelled.

It was all in vain. The man opened Taeyong's mouth and prevented him from closing it as he pushed the pills onto his tongue. Taeyong's eyes averted to Mark's and they made eye contact for a moment before the former looked down. He was hit, and the man shouted at him to swallow the pills, which he eventually did. Mark sighed weakly, closing his eyes. He wanted to wake up. He wasn't sure how much he could stand. The door was locked, and even though that wasn't a problem for him, it left a bad taste in his mouth.

The man abruptly stood up, taking Mark by surprise. "I'll be back, just you wait."

He watched as he walked over to the door and disappeared beyond it. He turned back to Taeyong and rushed beside him. "You can see me? I'm _here_ for you?"

Young Taeyong nodded. "Safe?"

"Safe?" asked Mark, and after a thought, he nodded. "Yeah."

He looked relieved, but he wasn't letting his guard down. Mark looked around. The room looked far better when it wasn't bloodstained. But there _were_ some odd splatters, mostly on the ground.

"Who hurt you?"

Taeyong thought for a moment, but then he pointed to the door. Mark wasn't surprised. He pointed at the bruise on his collarbone, but rather than responding, he covered it.

"All of them? From him?"

He nodded, and Mark clenched his jaw. If he could have gone back in time and killed him himself, he would have. But when the doctor was killed, he was only fourteen, whereas Taeyong was eighteen.

Time passed, and Mark was looking around absentmindedly. He didn't know when he'd wake up. He just had to wait. He tried to force himself awake, but he couldn't. Part of him wanted to stay asleep, but he knew he wasn't with the real Taeyong. It was nothing more than a visage. A realistic one at that.

Mark turned to Taeyong. He looked as though he was struggling to keep his eyes open, and that was familiar to him. Mark shook his arm, but he didn't even look at him. Upon hearing the door open, he didn't even bother turning around. They both knew who was there. Soon, the man appeared beside Taeyong, and Mark's eyes widened as the doctor slipped his hand behind the patient's back and moved him away from the wall, instead laying him on the floor. Taeyong turned towards him, and Mark shivered as he reached in his direction.

The latter's heart was pounding. He needed to do something, but he couldn't. Mark covered his mouth and edged toward the door as a cry slipped out of Taeyong's lips and he clenched his eyes shut. It was like the farmhouse all over again—except, that time, he couldn't stop it.

The slightest hint of enjoyment out of the doctor sent Mark running. He ran through the doors and out into a hallway. More visages wandered past him, not seeing him. He ran and ran, but he felt something pull him back. He looked back, and the visages were gone. The building was dark, and he felt somebody shake him. He was awake. Mark opened his eyes and sat up, breathing heavily. He gripped onto his hoodie and leaned forward. Doyoung was beside him, clearly alarmed. Before the elder could speak, Mark ran into another room and threw up his last meal.

"I'm never coming back here after today, every time I do, somebody throws up," Doyoung complained. "What the hell was that about?"

He watched as Mark frantically paced, and he soon turned and ran into Taeyong's room. Doyoung followed him, but he came to a stop when he saw the younger kneeling on the floor, wiping tears from his face.

"Mark?"

"I c-can't stay here again."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"I dreamed about Taeyong, in here."

Doyoung raised an eyebrow. "You did?"

"He was with that doctor."

"Oh, Mark..." said the elder, rushing into the room.

Doyoung knelt beside him and hugged his friend. He didn't know what he saw, but he didn't need to. He didn't want to know. Mark wept, hugging him back. "I couldn't s-stop it."

"It was just a dream."

"But what if it wasn't? What if that really happened? Just... without me there? It could be a sign—" Mark began, "—I need to help Taeyong escape."

"It _was_ a dream, Mark. You can't see the past. Plus, Taeyong is with Taeil now."

"It felt so real."

"But it wasn't. Taeyong is safe with Taeil, he'd never let anybody harm him."

He knew that.

* * *

Taeyong woke up tired, and he simply lay on his bed. He couldn't remember getting there, but he assumed it was late when he managed to sleep. The room was light during the day. For a while, he never moved. He didn't want to.

"Taeyong," a familiar, feminine voice called. "Are you hungry?"

He was, and he couldn't ignore that. He turned around but frowned upon seeing no food in the woman's hands. "What am I supposed to eat, air?"

"No, there's food in the cafeteria."

"Caf...teria?"

"Caf-e-teria," she repeated, emphasizing the first 'e'. "Do you want to come with me? We can eat together, and then I'll show you the yard."

"Outside?"

She nodded. That was an easy motivator. "There'll be people, but you can leave whenever you like. I'll be nearby to make sure you're safe."

Taeyong sat up, but upon seeing his crutch leaning against the wall, he paused. "People will laugh at me."

"They won't," the nurse insisted, "they're a nice bunch."

"Of course you can say that," he muttered.

Taeyong grabbed his crutch and stood up, but immediately, he had to sit down. He was hit by dizziness and held his hand over his left eye.

"Are you alright?"

"I am," he said harshly, standing up again.

She sighed but nodded. He walked to the door, and upon getting outside, he looked around. It was bright. The walls were painted white, and there was a blue stripe in the center.

"This blue line," the woman pointed at it, "if you follow it this way, it will take you to the social area. The other way, the showers are."

"Where is the... food place?"

"The cafeteria is in the social area."

He nodded as they began to walk forward in the direction that the nurse had pointed in. There were more rooms for a while but then the hallway opened up. Taeyong was too busy looking at the floor that he almost failed to notice people looking his way. When he looked up, he jumped slightly upon seeing two men looking his way and stepped back.

"They're not going to do anything," said the nurse, "they're just curious, you're a fresh face."

One of them waved, but Taeyong flinched again as though he was right in front of him, rather than across the room. After getting no response, the man looked away. Taeyong felt relieved. He was pointed in the direction of another hallway, with an open door, and be began to walk across. Though he still hated that he'd been moved—and probably _wouldn't_ get used to the overabundance of nurses and other peering eyes—he did like being able to move around. But his legs were hardly what they used to be.

The other hallway was short. It led into another room, one with several tables positioned around the room. Like in the other building. Taeyong looked around as the nurse led him inside. She walked over to a table and pulled out a chair for him. To that, he scowled but sat down.

"Is there anything you won't eat?"

He shrugged. "I normally just eat whatever I'm given."

"Alright. That'll do for now. I'll be right back, don't leave."

Taeyong looked down at the table. It wasn't as though he could go wherever he wanted, anyway. He found himself tapping his foot against the floor nervously, occasionally looking around the room. As he looked at the farthest end of the room, his gaze shifted to somebody sat by the wall. He wasn't the type to care about people around him, unless they were a hazard to him, anyway. But that one person caught his eye.

He was in a wheelchair, and, if Taeyong had to guess his age—which he wasn't particularly _good_ at doing, given the lack of exposure and understanding—he looked around his age, or just younger. He wasn't looking in his direction, he was simply minding his own business. But he looked how Taeyong felt; out of place.

Hearing footsteps grow towards him, Taeyong turned around. The nurse carried over two plates. Upon placing them down, the patient looked confused. She chuckled. "What is it?"

Without speaking, he picked up a fork. She watched as he clenched the handle in his balled fist.

"Oh, that's right. Can you use a fork?"

"Taeil normally gives me a spoon."

"It's just the same, look," she said, demonstrating with her fork.

But it wasn't that simple. It _didn't_ feel the same, to him. As he tried to use it, it certainly didn't feel the same. He looked up from the plate, slightly nervous about what response he'd get.

"Do you want me to get you a spoon?"

He nodded gently. She walked away but soon returned with one. She placed it on the table and sat back down once again. He took it and resumed to his usual, fist-clenched way of holding cutlery. He felt her gaze on him as he shuffled back, moving his food as far away from her as he could without ending up on another table. He began to eat quietly, his leg falling still beneath the table.

"So, Taeyong," said the nurse, "we haven't had a proper introduction, have we?"

He looked up curiously and shook his head.

"I'm Haneul," she continued. "I'm here to help you with whatever you need, within reason, of course."

"I don't need help."

The nurse was unsurprised by that response. He certainly wasn't the only patient who said that. "Well, just in case you need help, then. Like now, getting your food."

Taeyong looked at the plate as he continued eating. She seemed too alike people he'd had around him in the past, ones that treat him like a child. But he _was_ curious. "Why?"

"Why... what?"

"Why do you help people? Especially people like me."

"Because it's rewarding. Somebody needs to be there for everybody."

"Even if we don't need you?"

Because Haneul understood him, she knew that she shouldn't argue back. "Even if you don't need me, I'll be here."

"That doesn't sound very fun."

"I enjoy it."

He clearly didn't understand, shaking his head. "Well, do you live here? Why are you eating now?"

"We live in this building, yes. But you can't go to the staff area."

"So you're here _all_ day?"

"And night."

"That sounds boring."

"I'm not here on weekends, though. Somebody else will be with you then. Doctor Kim is here during the day, every day. Mostly."

Taeyong didn't like that there would be so many people trying to get involved in his life. He could withstand Taeil and the other doctor, but even then, he was only just getting used to Doctor Jang when he was taken away from them.

"Nurse Choi," a voice called, prompting both the nurse and Taeyong to turn around. "I hate to interrupt, but I need to take Taeyong to first aid."

It was the new doctor. Taeyong couldn't remember his name, but he knew that he didn't quite like him. He was different.

"Is it alright if he finishes eating first?" asked Haneul, and Doctor Kim nodded.

"The neurologist is here to see you, Taeyong. Since you can't go to the hospital from here. He said you agreed to have a sample taken of your spinal fluid?"

Taeyong nodded, remembering. "Now? What about outside?"

"It'll still be there when you're back, and I'll take you out."

The patient sighed, but he took one last spoonful of food and reached for his crutch.

"When should I collect him?" asked Haneul.

"An hour? He'll have to rest for a short while afterward."

She nodded as Taeyong stood up. He just wanted to get it over and done with.

* * *

"I think it means something," said Mark, as Doyoung wrapped a blanket he'd bought around him. "Don't you agree? Like a message, from my subconscious."

"No, I don't agree. You're digging too deep into a stupid dream that only happened because you're thinking about everything that happened here. Dreams don't mean anything," the elder replied.

Mark received a hot drink from him and thanked him quietly. He certainly needed it. "It's proving that I'm powerless, and I already feel that."

"You're not _completely_ powerless," said Doyoung, "you've protected Taeyong before."

"But... I can't do that again. Not while he's in there. If I'm caught, who's going to be there for him when he's out of that damn hospital?"

"I'm not telling you to take somebody's life, I'm simply reminding you that you have protected him before. If you start to see killing as a way to feel powerful, you'll become some messed up serial killer—so don't do that."

"You really think I could?"

Doyoung looked down. He wasn't sure of what he could reply, and the truth probably wouldn't settle well with Mark. "No, probably not. But you _might_ fight more."

"Right," the younger murmured, "I suppose I have gotten a little bit set on 'violence is an option'."

"You just need a way to channel that anger into something helpful."

"You're starting to sound an awful lot like a therapist."

"I'd be a terrible therapist," Doyoung replied, "I can't even listen to my own boyfriend's problems without shouting, these days."

"You would be fine, it's completely different when you have to live with the person. I think you'd be a good listener, and you have good advice, sometimes."

"What about you?"

"Me?" asked Mark, " _What_?"

"Did you ever feel overwhelmed by Taeyong? Consider dropping everything, and leaving him?"

The younger looked startled, and he looked down at the drink in his hands, warming him up. "Honestly?"

"Just between us," Doyoung nodded.

"I did."

"When?"

"After living with him full time for three weeks," Mark replied.

"That's..."

"Quick," he said, "I know."

Though Doyoung wasn't particularly surprised, it wasn't as though they could have space from each other, he still didn't expect it to happen so quickly. He and Jaehyun had a break or two, but for them, that wasn't an option. "Well, why? I mean, honestly, you two do seem good together, from what I've heard and seen."

"He's really hard work," Mark replied, a hint of shame in his voice. "Like _really_ really hard work. So much so that I felt bad for Taeil and the others."

"Oh no," said Doyoung, "go on, elaborate."

"I didn't realize when we were staying with a couple before Taeyong got shot. But he's not the type of person you can just expect to be able to work around. I gathered this much quite early on: if I was serious about helping him, I had to change my life for him. He can suddenly become agitated and destructive, as he did once in Namhyeon because he thought he'd pushed me away. He needs reassurance all of the time, and he's _super_ stubborn."

"I feel that, dealing with somebody who's stubborn."

Mark nodded. "It's not easy. Taeyong wouldn't accept that he needed to be cautious, even when I told him that he could easily injure himself because of his condition. I'd wake up in the morning, and he'd be gone—up a tree somewhere or searching for food, even though he'd been shot hardly a week or two earlier."

"Searching for food?" Doyoung scrunched up his face, "What could he possibly find out there?"

"Plants, a hell of a lot of plants."

"I bet you _loved_ that, you've always had a deep hatred for vegetables."

"That's why I started stealing food. There was _no_ way I could eat another wild plant."

"Has he not poisoned himself yet? Eating wild plants, I mean."

Mark shook his head. It had surprised even him how Taeyong had a knack for searching for safe plants, even if they tasted horrible to the younger. "Maybe when he was younger, but he's never poisoned me with his wild salads. He was very precise with his scent and taste testing, you could convince me he was some kind of goat hybrid and I'd believe you."

"Well, do you know the specifics of what kind of farm he was raised on? If they had dogs, they probably had sheep, so surely there were a lot of plants? Maybe even ones that his parents grew?"

"Taeyong mentioned the dogs, goats, horses, sheep, and cows—I think. He told me that his mother used to give him goats' milk because he couldn't gain weight, and she was told it would help."

Doyoung pulled another face, clearly revolted. "I'm starting to think they purposefully raised him like an animal, or at least that they had _no_ experience with children."

"His father did," said Mark, "he had to, otherwise Taeyong wouldn't have a sister."

"I forgot about her, in all honesty."

"Well, she does have a busy life working."

"Anyway, you were talking about him being difficult," said Doyoung.

"Ah, right. He seemed genuinely happy, but it was hurting him. He wouldn't listen to me, and I was getting frustrated. It was like our ability to communicate with each other was wavering from the second he stepped foot out there, and he was free. I guess it's because he was living like he was a child again, but then he started having frequent nightmares, panic attacks and he'd injure himself because he wouldn't accept that he can't do the same things anymore."

"Disbelief. Makes sense."

"One day he disappeared," Mark sighed. "I was terrified, I thought somebody had kidnapped him while I was asleep, and I spent hours looking for him or at least any clues. I found him tangled up in some weird netting that somebody had dumped. He'd been there for hours because he strayed deep into the forest, and the net was caught on a fence."

Doyoung watched curiously as the younger paused. He didn't know what he was expecting to hear from Mark, but it certainly wasn't that.

"That was the first time I started questioning what the hell I was doing. He was so pitiful, trapped, and vulnerable. I realized that really, we were just waiting to die. I cut him out of the net, he tried to hug me but I just pushed him away. I thought some pretty horrendous things again because I was overwhelmed. I'd been so stressed that day that I just snapped, and I walked away instead of talking to him."

"What type of horrendous things? We're being honest, and I want the full story."

"I thought about leaving him, handing him over to the police. I was close to saying a hell of a lot of degrading things like calling him an idiot, a freak. I don't know what hit me," Mark explained, "but I was close to breaking point, and Taeyong didn't notice."

Doyoung nodded slightly. He didn't want to judge Mark, of course not, but it seemed pretty serious.

"That night, I left. I was walking to the nearest town, to start anew. But I turned back. I thought about him, how he'd die without me and would be terrified when he couldn't find me. He'd probably run into a public place, get into an accident or get attacked, and it would be my fault. When I got back, he was asleep, clinging onto the bag that I left—you know, with food for him. I think I cried for about two hours because he normally held onto my shirt like that every night."

"He didn't notice you left?"

"I don't think so. In the morning, he apologized for running off, and he promised to listen to me. We kept away from each other after I found him, so he couldn't say that then."

"Well," Doyoung said, clearly hesitant to talk, "I'm amazed you turned back. I don't know if I'd be able to do that for Jaehyun, but we're in a completely different situation."

Mark hummed. "How are you doing? I mean, it sounds like you're either considering or have considered leaving Jaehyun."

"More than once," said the elder. "It's an endless cycle. We fight, he leaves, he comes home drunk, we fight again, and then we make up."

"Has he tried to get help?"

"He's planned to go to group therapy, but for two weeks he's not bothered even going. Taeil is trying to help, but I'm worried that will backfire."

"How?"

"Reporting him."

Mark looked alarmed. "To who?"

"To—" Doyoung paused. "Wait, nobody's told you?"

"No... told me what?"

"Well, sometimes the arguments get pretty serious when Jaehyun's drunk."

"Has he hurt you?" the younger asked, raising his voice.

"No, no," said Doyoung, "not really."

"Not really? We're being honest, remember."

Mark watched as the elder nervously ran his hand over his arm. The latter avoided eye contact.

"He hit you," said the younger, "when?"

"Last night, that's why I came straight here this morning."

Doyoung's eyes widened when his friend stood up, collecting his things. "Come on."

"What? Where are we going?"

"To beat the shit out of your boyfriend."

* * *

Taeyong walked out of the first aid room rubbing his back with his free hand. He jumped when he saw a figure beside him, but upon turning to see Haneul, he relaxed slightly. She smiled at him.

"Done? How was it?"

"Horrible," he replied, "I can't feel my back, and my head hurts."

"Did the doctor tell you that was normal?"

He nodded. "It'll be better tomorrow."

"Are you sure? You're not just saying that to go outside?"

"I'm sure," he replied, walking back toward the cafeteria.

He remembered the route from the walk there. Haneul walked beside him, occasionally making sure that he wasn't going to misplace his crutch and fall. They walked past other patients, and gazes shot their way. The older man from earlier waved, and Taeyong looked away. The nurse frowned, looking at his expression of uncertainty, and smiled reassuringly at the other patient. Surely they'd understand.

When they reached the cafeteria again, Haneul took a right, and Taeyong followed. He could see the light flooding in at the bottom of the hallway and his eyes immediately lit up. Ignoring a concerned comment from the nurse about slowing down, he continued to hurry towards the door. Haneul tried to match his speed, and soon, they were stood at the door. Taeyong walked out without hesitation, following the path. He suddenly came to a stop and looked up at the sun.

"Do you like being outside?"

"More than being inside," he hummed, feeling the gentle breeze against his freshly-cut hair.

"Well, luckily for you, the yard is open from midday to six."

Taeyong stayed silent, ignoring how that made little sense to him. Though he knew midday was twelve, he still had very minimal understanding of time, except that it passed extremely slowly. Far slower than it had when he was with Mark.

"Do you want to sit down? There are benches," said Haneul, "I can give you some peace if you'd like, I'll just be over there if you need me."

"I won't."

"Alright, just call me if you do."

Taeyong sighed, shifting his crutch on the concrete path. He walked further along the path until he came across a plethora of raised flowerbeds. In front of a medium-sized water feature, there was a bench. Luckily empty. He sat down, relieved at the pressure removed from his legs. Hearing the water trickling from the rock formation, and into a body of more water, Taeyong sunk back against the back of the bench and looked up at the sky. He wondered if Mark could see the sky, where ever he was. He hoped so.

"Excuse me?" spoke a voice suddenly, breaking the patient out of his daydream.

Taeyong turned around, alarmed, to see the man in the wheelchair that he'd seen in the cafeteria. He reached for his crutch, but not before the other could speak again.

"Please, don't run away. I'm not going to hurt you."

Taeyong's hand slowly return to his lap and balled his fist. His body was telling him to run. Subconsciously, he started tapping his foot against the floor.

"Are you new here?" asked the other patient, "I haven't seen you before."

Ignoring him, Taeyong turned away. He didn't feel the need to engage in small talk. Even though he failed to gain a response, he smiled.

"Okay," said the man in the wheelchair, sounding disappointed. "I'm Christopher Bang, but for simplicity, you can call me Bangchan if you'd like."

"Taeyong," he said plainly.

"Welcome. This isn't the worst place on earth, the staff are nice, the other patients are _alright,_ but people move around a ton. Have you been here long?"

"Two days, I think."

"So you _are_ new. Good. Otherwise welcoming you would have been pretty embarrassing."

Taeyong turned to look at Bangchan, laughed, and turned away. The latter smiled in accomplishment.

"It's relieving," he sighed, "everybody else runs around playing basketball, but that isn't quite possible for me, and usually, nobody comes out here."

"What happened to you?"

"Long story. But in short, it was a car accident. I'm paralyzed from the waist down."

"Paralysed? What's that?"

"Can't move, basically," he explained, "it ruined my life, and that's why I'm here."

"Did you need your legs?"

Bangchan laughed, but Taeyong could tell it was forced. "Yeah, I did. You can't swim without legs. But anyway, I told you my story, now I want to hear yours. If you're comfortable telling me, that is."

"Well, I'm not sure exactly what it is. I can't walk in a straight line and my legs are weak. I fall a lot, too."

"Is it just your legs?"

Taeyong furrowed his eyebrows. If he knew there was more, why bother asking?

"No, I can't see with one eye—" he pointed at it, "—this one."

"Is that not... difficult to live with?" asked Bangchan, "Sorry, I heard some nurses talking about a new patient. I kind of deduced it was you."

"Well, I've gotten used to it, sort of. But people can surprise me from this side."

"Are they trying to figure it out? How it happened?"

Taeyong nodded. "A doctor did tests, and he took something from my back today."

"Ouch, sounds painful. Was it?"

"Not really, I couldn't feel much."

Taeyong wasn't sure if Bangchan knew who he was. His time in the main ward had proved to him that people didn't like him. He didn't want to risk asking questions. If he could leave it buried, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that it stayed buried.

Perhaps some people weren't so bad after all.

* * *

Mark burst into Doyoung's apartment with the latter in tow. He was angry—furious, even. Nobody hurt those he cared about. In a haze of emotion, he ignored his friend's attempt at calming him, by saying it was only a one-off. No matter how many times it happened, Mark wouldn't let it go unnoticed. His blood boiled. He looked around, scanning the room for Jaehyun. He was nowhere to be seen.

"Mark, stop it! You don't need to get involved!"

"Yes, I do! I won't allow him to treat you like shit!"

"It's not his fault!" Doyoung insisted. "We were arguing, we were both out of line!"

Mark pushed the door to the bathroom open, but nobody was there. The spare room, too, only the chill of the open window. He raced toward the bedroom door, but Doyoung grabbed onto his shirt and yanked him back.

"Leave it, get out!"

He batted the elder's hand away and opened the door. He knew it would get worse if he didn't intervene. Doyoung would keep it hidden. It was Mark's duty as his friend to protect him.

The elder continued to shout behind him, but Mark stepped into the room and looked around, marching over to the other side of the bed that was out of view. Even through his fury, Mark's eyes widened when he saw Jaehyun lying on the floor, a bottle shattered beside him. Doyoung noticed his reaction and ran over.

"Jaehyun! Jaehyun!" he shouted, shaking him roughly, "Call an ambulance, Mark! Quickly!"

"But..."

"Just do it!"

Mark took out his phone and inserted the number for an ambulance. Doyoung checked Jaehyun's pulse with two fingers and found him to be alive. Watching his friend, he hesitated. Nothing would change if Jaehyun awoke. He let his hand fall as Doyoung cried, holding his boyfriend's motionless hand.

"What are you doing?" Doyoung yelled. "Call them!"

"You said you were thinking of leaving him."

"Not for dead! I'm not going to leave him!"

Doyoung stood up and snatched Mark's phone out of his hands, pressing 'call' promptly and returning to Jaehyun's side. He looked at the blood on the floor in front of his face and sighed. They all saw it coming, but nobody did anything. They just sat by and waited for him to go over the edge.

* * *

_Taeyong, small and fearful, sat in corner of the room. He leaned over, holding a red crayon in his hand, and drew in the notebook his mother had given him. On the page, there some trees, randomly scattered across the page. He colored red circles on the green scribbles and smiled at his creation. He picked up a brown crayon and shifted his hand beside the tree. Drawing an outline of a dog, he quietly hummed to a tune that he'd heard before. As he began to outline a small person besides the dog, he heard a thud and his hand slipped, ruining what he had drawn. A line ran straight through the boy he was drawing. He fell silent, looking at the door._

_The crayon dropped from his hand and onto the paper. He stood up and ran to the window, standing on his tip-toes to look outside. He could only see the tops of trees and the darkening sky. The sounds from downstairs were making him grow restless, the thuds, shouts, and cries that felt all so familiar. He found himself slowly edging towards the door, and soon, he reached up for the handle and pulled it open. The creak felt far louder than usual, as the house fell quiet._

_He stood at the top of the stairs and clung onto the handrail, his arm stretched upward to actually reach it. After managing a few steps, he heard footsteps grow closer. The door at the bottom of the stairs opened, and Taeyong froze. He held his breath, but upon seeing his mother—with tears glistening in the light—he let himself breathe. She started walking towards him, closing the door behind her._

_"Tae... you know you shouldn't come out when papa is angry, he'll hurt you," she said, "come on, let's stay out of his way."_

_His mother held his hand, walking him back up the stairs. She walked him into his room and closed the door. Taeyong looked up at her as they walked, and when she picked him up and placed him on the end of the bed, he looked back at her with curious eyes._

_"Did you draw anything?" she asked, looking around, and picked up the book. "What happened here?"_

_He frowned, looking at the book in her hands. "It was loud..."_

_"Were you scared?" she asked, and she wrapped her arms around him. "I'm sorry, Tae."_

_He nuzzled his face into her, closing his eyes in content when she caressed the back of his head. When she moved away, he looked down._

_"But Tae," she began, looking at the drawing again, and the scribbles on the page, "have you tried to draw a little neater?"_

_She watched as he looked at the book. Though she loved whatever Taeyong drew, he wasn't the best at drawing neatly, and it was the same with his coloring book. It didn't help that he peculiarly held his crayons. Whatever she tried to teach him wouldn't stick, and he clearly didn't want to learn—or, alternatively, couldn't._

_"You know what, you draw how you want to. Come on."_

_His mother moved and sat on the bed, and he happily crawled over and sat on her lap. She wrapped her arms around him and planted a kiss on his head. He slumped back in her arms and she chuckled. Taeyong closed his eyes, letting himself relax as she began to sing quietly. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep in his mother's arms, surrounded by warmth and the quiet of a calm house._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that the last section was some much-needed relief from the overall darkness of this story. Also, perhaps some positivity in Taeyong's life, even if he's away from Mark? DoJae however...
> 
> I just want to clarify that at the beginning, with Mark's dream, he isn't seeing the past. He's just dreaming. He hasn't become psychic or something. Interpret the contents of the dream how you wish.
> 
> Also, yes, with the changed ages, it works out that Taeyong was actually born in 1999 and Mark was born in ~2003 (do remember the story is set in 2024).


End file.
